


From Eden

by RivetingRedPants



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivetingRedPants/pseuds/RivetingRedPants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean Winchester enters Castiel's life, it is unexpected and violent- literally. On the brink of a failing relationship, Castiel's new friend needs all the support and advice Castiel can give him. The one thing Castiel didn't count on was falling in love with him. Morphing into the person he swore he'd never be, Castiel entangles himself with Dean Winchester in a relationship that is every bit as precious as it is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Something Tragic

From Eden

Chapter One: Something Tragic

The sound of glass breaking filled the air around the house. The Texas heat crowded in on him, squeezing him as Castiel walked by, trying to keep to himself, cradling his precious books in his arms. There were a lot of books today. Most days, he only took home two, but he was doing research on a species of sea turtle and research required a heavier load. A feminine voice shouted, “FUCK YOU, DEAN WINCHESTER!”   
Castiel tried to walk faster with his books, shuffling their weight so as not to drop them. It wasn't his fault that this Dean Wessminster person lived on a busy street and liked to have random fights with ladies with his windows open.  
“THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE IDEA, ANNA!” A man shouted back. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FUCK ME! NOT SOME RANDOM-” Castiel cringed. More glass shattered. The words sounded all too familiar. He wanted nothing more than to be away from this house and its open windows and its screaming people. Someone knocked into him and caused him to drop his books. He huffed and turned to see who it was so he could glare at them, but they had already walked away, nothing but a retreating figure. Castiel stooped to pick up his things. He was right in front of the house now. He cringed again as he heard,  
“HOW DARE YOU ACCUSE ME-.”  
“IT'S NOT AN ACCUSATION! IT IS THE TRUTH!”  
“YOU BASTARD!” Castiel hurried to pick up his books, finally able to shove them into a tower in his arms. He started to walk hurriedly away but, as he took his first step, a solid wall of person slammed into him, knocking him backwards and causing his books to fall all about him. He landed several feet away on the curb, just barely catching himself so as not to smash his head into the ground. His glasses were knocked off, his satchel was thrown off of his shoulder, and his books, his precious books!  
“DAMN IT!” Castiel shouted as he scurried to his knees and felt around for his glasses. He was sure his favorite tweed jacket was ripped and his pants were probably ruined from scuff marks.  
“I'm so sorry, man! Here let me . . .” Glasses were placed gently onto his face, and the world was brought a bit more into focus, only a bit because the left glass was completely cracked.  
“Damn it,” Castiel breathed. The man who he was face to face with was bleeding from his temple, he looked red in the face and his grass green eyes had a wide, panicked feel to them.  
“I'm sorry. I didn't see you. I was just trying to . . . I'm sorry!” He apologized again, crawling around on the ground to pick up all of Castiel's books. “I guess I'm just having an off day.” The man had short blond hair. His nose was thin and freckles were splashed across his face. His lips were sweet and plump and his jawline was that of a demigod and dusted over with stubble. The man was a living, breathing sin, Castiel thought. His muscled arms picked up all of Castiel's books and handed them back to Castiel, and finally Castiel registered that he hadn't said anything.  
“Um . . . thank you. It's alright, really.” He took the books, hoping none of them were too badly damaged, and sat them down so he could go about collecting things from his bag, which had apparently exploded on impact of the ground.  
“How are you able to carry that many books anyway? I mean, you've got muscles I'm sure, but that just looks physically impossible.” Castiel managed a smile in the man's direction.  
“I can manage.” There was a pause as both men got to their feet.  
“Let me help you. I knocked you over and . . .” the man rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Well, I could really use a walk anyway.”  
“You don't even know where I'm going . . .” Castiel said, for some reason already trusting this man as he took half of his books from his arms.  
“Anywhere is better than here.” The man cast a glance up at the house they were standing in front of, and Castiel nodded. The man had to be younger than him, by a good five years or more. Even though Castiel had been knocked over, his clothes and glasses had been ruined, and he now had ringing in his ears from the fall, Castiel felt pity for the man. He had been in his shoes once.  
“Sure. I only live a few blocks down.” The man smiled and nodded, starting to walk off. He didn't get very far before he turned and raised an eyebrow at Castiel.  
“Uh . . . maybe you should lead the way. I don't really know where you live.” Castiel realized he had been staring and nodded, hurrying off after the man.

“My name is Dean, by the way.”  
“I gathered that from all of the screaming.” Dean frowned. “I'm Castiel. Is your head alright?” Dean touched a hand to his temple and when he pulled it away, it was bleeding.  
“I think I'll be fine. She threw a perfume bottle at me,” Dean explained. Castiel sniffed the air.  
“What a perfect waste of good perfume. At least you smell nice now, though.” Dean chuckled. “When we get back to my place you should let me take a look at that. I have a first aid kit.”  
“Yeah?” Dean grinned. “I'd appreciate that, thanks.”  
“It would be my pleasure, Dean.” There was a comfortable pause as the crowd on the sidewalk momentarily parted them.  
“So. Do you have an odd tortoise fetish?” Dean asked, gesturing to the books in his hands. Castiel could feel himself redden.  
“For one, those are turtles. And secondly, I am just doing some research.”  
“On . . . sea tortoises?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. Castiel stuck his nose up in the air a little bit.  
“Turtles. I find them interesting. And I am a research librarian, it is my job to know about-.”  
“About sea . . . turtles?” Dean chuckled. Castiel looked at him, unable to tell if Dean was seriously mocking him or not.  
“And a variety of other topics. What do you do, Dean?” Castiel asked icily, wanting to get the conversation off of himself.  
“Well uh . . .”  
“Yes?” Castiel asked impatiently. For a moment, he suspected Dean was a male stripper. Or a model. He certainly had the look.  
“I'm an artist,” Dean finally answered. Castiel tilted his head to the side.  
“An artist? What kind of art?” Stripper. He's a stripper, Castiel thought.  
“All kinds. Modern art, painting, sculpture. Anything I can get my hands on, really,” Dean said, refusing to meet Castiel's eyes as if he were embarrassed.  
“That's amazing.” Castiel smiled. “I would love to see your work sometime.” Dean's green eyes finally met his right as they came to stand outside of his apartment building. Everything seemed to stop.  
“Yeah?” Dean asked.  
“Of course.” Castiel answered, somewhat breathlessly. He blinked and realized they had been staring at each other for what was probably an inappropriate amount of time. He led Dean inside, to the elevator, and pressed the button for the third floor. Castiel went to put his key in the door and turned and looked at Dean first. “Um . . . I haven't had people over in quite a while . . . excuse the mess.” Dean just smiled at him.  
“No worries, dude. I'm not exactly Mr. clean freak myself.” Castiel opened the door to his apartment. He groaned inwardly as his eyes took in the mess of his own living space. Books and notes were scattered everywhere. There was a bowl on the coffee table from cereal that morning, sitting beside yet another open book with a notepad of messy notes. The curtains were drawn so the apartment appeared dark and dingy. Castiel walked over to the dining table and sat his books down, gesturing for Dean to do the same, and then he flicked on some lights. The kitchen was in bad need of cleaning; dishes were stacked up in the sink.  
“Wait here, I'll go get that first aid kit.” Castiel walked back through the hallway and into his bedroom, to the bathroom connected to it. After a minute of rifling around, he found it. When he came back out, Dean was standing in front of one of his bookshelves, reading the titles off the spines, his fingers tracing over one of them. “Do you read?” Castiel asked him. Dean jumped. Castiel felt himself blush. He had a bad habit of sneaking up on people, and he tried his best not to be too creepy, but he couldn't help it. Dean turned to face him and Castiel realized he had gotten very close to Dean. Their noses were almost brushing. Dean seemed flustered for a second, but quickly recovered.  
“I read here and there. My brother reads way more than I do. I just noticed you had one of my favorites.”  
“Oh?” Castiel asked, knowing he should move back, but somehow unable to.  
“Yeah, Lord of the Rings,” Dean answered. Castiel felt himself smile.   
“You like Tolkien?”  
“I'd be a fool not to!” Dean said, rolling his eyes. Finally Castiel stepped back and walked over to the couch.  
“Sit down here,” he instructed, moving more books off the couch. Dean plopped down and Castiel went into the kitchen to get a wet paper towel to wipe off the caked on dried blood. As he worked, Dean kept quiet, but his muscles tightened up, his fists were clenched in his lap. “I don't think there is any glass still in the wound. It looks like a nasty scrape. It could've been much worse.”  
“Crazy bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath. Castiel poured some rubbing alcohol onto another paper towel and pressed it to Dean's temple and Dean hissed.  
“It's just rubbing alcohol. Sorry, I should've warned you.”  
“I'm fine,” Dean let out through gritted teeth. Castiel couldn't help but smile at his new friend. He put some neosporin on his finger and gently spread it around in soothing motions, watching as Dean visibly relaxed. He closed his eyes and released the tension in his body. Castiel then put on a big band aid and went to throw out the dirty paper towels. When he got back, Dean was standing. “Have you eaten dinner yet?” he asked, somewhat awkwardly, refusing to meet Castiel's eyes.  
“No, I haven't. I was planning on making some frozen meal or something.”  
“I know this great diner down the street. Let me take you there, just for . . . you know. Letting me bowl you over and then fixing my face. My treat.” Castiel smiled at him.  
“I would like that very much, Dean.”  
The walk to the restaurant was pleasant and filled mostly with a comfortable silence that broke the moment they were seated at their table.  
“The burgers here are pretty good. So's the pie. Love me some pie,” Dean said, not even looking at the menu.  
“Do you come here often?” Castiel asked, wondering how he had lived just moments from Dean's home, and the diner, and never run into either. He supposed because he was too busy working and reading to really spend much time exploring his own neighborhood. Dean grimaced at the question.  
“It's a nice escape,” he answered gruffly. Castiel quirked an eyebrow.  
“What exactly are you escaping from?” Dean opened his mouth and closed it several times, and just when it seemed he was about to answer, their waitress came over and took their orders. Castiel ended up ordering the same thing Dean did, and Dean smiled at him as if Castiel had just joined some secret club. Castiel found it endearing. Then Dean's eyes seemed to cloud over and he looked down at his hands.  
“Look, Cas,” No one had ever called him that before, he thought. He wondered if he minded, but he wasn't sure yet. “I just met you. I don't want to . . . to burden you with my sob story.” Now Castiel was intrigued by the younger man. He leaned forward.  
“Dean, it is no burden at all. I am curious. If you don't mind sharing, I don't mind listening.” A pause hung in the air between them, and Castiel acted out of his nature, he reached across the table and put a reassuring hand on Dean's. Dean's green eyes shot up, met his gaze, and held it. “Sometimes talking about it can help more than anything, and I don't know why but . . . I feel compelled to help you in any way I can.” The sentiment was completely true. He was oddly captivated by Dean, the stranger. He felt like he knew him somehow, recognized himself in Dean. Castiel withdrew his hand. It wasn't normal for him to be physical at all with people, but Dean somehow felt comfortable.  
“Well . . .” Dean smiled warmly at him. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me, and I've only just met you.”  
“If that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to you, you might need new friends,” Castiel retorted, chuckling. Dean met his eyes again.  
“I think I just found one.”  
“That you did. Now talk, if you don't mind.” Castiel allowed himself only a moment to feel shocked. He hadn't made a friend in . . . god knows how long, and here one was, within mere hours.  
“I've been married to Anna for about five years. We got married when we were twenty. Had a kid right away. Her name is Samantha, after my brother, Sam. He wasn't too happy. But she's a cute little kid. She's four now. Everything was fine until about six moths ago, when I started noticing things. Anna started pulling away more, becoming distant. We used to have date nights once a week, but those faded away until we stopped going. We used to have sex-,” Dean looked up and blushed. “Sorry, TMI.”  
“Don't worry about it,” Castiel said, paying sudden attention to his straw wrapper.  
“Anyway, you get the point. We were drifting apart. Now, I've never been the jealous type. I mean, look at me,” Dean gestured to himself, “What have I got to fear from other guys?” Castiel looked at Dean, and agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment. Dean was highly attractive. “Well, Anna started going out a lot, not coming home till late. And I got curious. I'd never done this before, but I checked her phone, and saw she was texting and calling some number a lot. Some pretty dirty texts, too. I confronted her about it and all she did was deny it and scream at me.” Dean shook his head, looking at his clenched fists. “I don't know what to do at this point. I think this has been going on too long and I'm ready to walk out, but my concern is for Samantha. How often does the father win custody, you know? I love that little brat, and I couldn't bare to only see her every other weekend until she's eighteen.” Dean's voice started to tighten with emotion. “And I love Anna. I want to make it work. I'm willing to make it work, but what good is that if she isn't?” By the end of his little speech, Dean was breathing heavy and clenching his fists in an effort not to cry. Castiel was hit with a pang of sorrow for Dean.  
“I have actually gone through much the same myself. As hard as it is, sometimes the right thing to do is leave. In most cases, being raised by divorced parents tends to be better for children than being raised by unhappily married parents, I think. Plus, your daughter would probably want you to be happy.” Castiel told him as their food arrived. They thanked the waitress and Dean started picking at his fries.  
“What do you mean you've been through much the same?” Dean asked, “What's your story?” Castiel smiled sadly.  
“I was married for ten years, we got married young too.” Castiel hated talking about that part of his life, it felt like a constant wound he would never recover from, a constant scar that kept reopening and pouring out his pain.  
“What happen’?” Dean asked around his food, “She cheat on you, too?” Castiel's eyes flicked up towards Dean. Here it was, the truth. He wondered if Dean would judge him for it.  
“Yes, he did,” Castiel responded, waiting for Dean's reaction. It was always hard to tell what people would do, if they would freak out or play it off. Castiel watched a brief flicker of something like amusement pass through Dean's eyes before he shrugged.  
“Were you waiting to see if I cared that you were married to a dude?” Dean asked mischievously. Castiel laughed, full out laughed. He was overjoyed Dean didn't care. He didn't normally talk about his sexuality because he would rather not face judgment from people he didn't care about, or even worse, people he did care about. Dean, for some reason, he cared about.  
“Honestly? Yes, I was waiting for that.” Dean bit into his cheeseburger.  
“Nah, dude, I don't care. People are just people and love and hate and all the emotions in between aren't sexist.” Castiel was taken aback.  
“That was . . . eloquent.”  
“Yeah, yeah, I'm a real poet. So, anyway. I dished my dirt, your turn. I mean . . . if you want to and stuff.” Castiel took a deep breath. He didn't talk about this part of his life, not ever. But he felt pity for Dean, for the position he was in.  
“Balthazar was incredible. We got married at nineteen, and stayed together until we were twenty-nine. He was spontaneous, romantic . . . I thought he loved me but now I doubt if he ever did. He, um . . . he was cheating on me. I'm not sure how long but I . . . I think it was for the majority of our ten year marriage. When I found out, I threatened to leave and . . .” Castiel looked at his plate, suddenly not hungry. “It didn't go over well.” Castiel remembered exactly how well it went over. Broken glass, screaming, blood, pain. He remembered Balthazar's eyes as he pinned Castiel to a wall.  
“You aren't leaving me,” Balthazar had whispered in his ear, choking Castiel with one hand, his other hand fisted in Castiel's hair. “You cannot leave me.”  
“You okay, Cas?” Dean's voice asked him, calling him back to reality. Castiel looked up into Dean's worried eyes, and brushed a tear quickly from his own. “If you can't talk about it . . .”  
“No, I'm fine. He physically assaulted me and I was afraid to leave. When I finally worked up the courage to, he, uh . . . he moved. To New Orleans. He said I would never see him again.” Dean grunted.  
“Good riddance, right?” Castiel looked back down at his food.  
“In some respects, yes.” He couldn't talk about the real reason Balthazar moved. He couldn't bare to say the words again, feel them on his lips. So this one thing he kept for himself. Dean could have everything else, but he couldn't have that. He couldn't have what Balthazar took.  
“How long ago did y'all split?” Dean asked, breaking him once again from his thought.  
“Six years ago next month.” Dean's eyes looked worried.  
“And it still hurts that bad?” Castiel knew what Dean was asking. He was asking if this was his future if he left Anna.  
“Every damn day,” Castiel answered. Dean sucked in a breath. “But there are things that hurt worse.” Castiel remembered the ambulance sirens. His brother shouting.  
“Damn. He must've really done a number on ya.” Dean's face twisted in disgust. “Makes me sick. He got away with it? You didn't press charges?” Castiel shrugged sadly.  
“I couldn't get anything on him. And no one in Texas wants to help the gay abuse victim. They just said it was because of the lifestyle I chose. Like being gay made it okay for my partners to beat me,” Castiel answered, remembering how let down he had been by the legal system. The countless hours in court. Now it was Dean's turn to reach out and place a hand on Castiel's closed fist.  
“Hey man, it's okay. At least he's out of the picture right? And you can live freely?” Castiel thought about Dean's words.  
“That's the thing, Dean. I'm not sure I am living freely. I work and I work and . . . I think this is the first meal that hasn't come from my freezer or a can in . . . god I can't even remember. And what's sad is I know how to cook. I used to love to cook. I used to love to go on walks and . . . I just . . .”  
“You haven't been living for the past six years?” Dean asked, amazed. Castiel thought about it.  
“I go out every once in a while . . .”  
“So no?”  
“ . . . The answer scares me.”   
As the check came and Dean refused Castiel's attempt to pay, saying it was his treat for knocking him over earlier, Castiel felt sad the evening was drawing to a close. He felt like he could spend an eternity in Dean's company and never grow bored. It was like Dean was the world's most interesting book, and Castiel was on the last chapter. He felt a certain reluctance to leave. Then, Dean's eyes lit up.  
“Give me your phone,” Dean told him. Castiel looked at him quizzically, but did as he was told. Dean punched something into the ancient keypad, mumbling about how the thing was as old as the dinosaurs, and then handed the phone back. “That's my number. You need a life, Cas, and I need a distraction. And advice. I think we are gonna be good friends.” Uncertainty flickered through Dean's eyes. “I mean, if you wanna be.” Castiel grinned at Dean. This must be the first friend he'd made since . . . well, he couldn't remember when.  
“Of course I want to be, that sounds wonderful, Dean.” Dean smiled and pulled Castiel in for a hug, patting his back before they parted.  
“Great, man! See ya around!” As Castiel watched Dean retreat down the street, he had to wonder why his body tingled everywhere Dean had touched him. Why he was left feeling like warmth had just engulfed him and then left him standing there, alone, cold without it's presence. He had to glance down at his phone, look at the screen with Dean Winchester's name, and his phone number, and wonder how soon would too soon be to text Dean and ask for another meet up. A hang out? A . . . a date?  
Castiel's thoughts screeched to an abrupt halt. Dean was married. With a child. He was not asking to date Castiel. And even if he was, it was wrong. Castiel was a victim of adultery before. He swore to himself he would never be a victim, nor a perpetrator of such acts. No, Dean would be just a friend, and he would attempt to help Dean as much as he could, because when Castiel was around Dean, for the first time in years, Castiel felt alive.


	2. Something So Magic

Chapter Two: Something so Magic

Castiel: Hello Dean. This is Castiel, from yesterday. Just wanted to make sure you had my number as well.

Dean: Hey Cas! Some buddies of mine r getting together this wknd @ a local bar, wanna join?

Castiel thought about it for a moment. It's not that he had social anxiety, per say, but he hadn't been out in a very long time, and the idea of meeting new people besides just Dean seemed overwhelming. Still, Dean would be there, and he liked Dean, so he was bound to like Dean's friends, right?

Castiel: Sure, Dean. I would be delighted.

Dean: Gr8, its called Emos, its on 6 Street. We r gonna meet up @ about 10 on Friday, sound good?

Castiel: Perfect. I shall see you there.

Castiel tried to go about the rest of his week as if it were just a regular week, but it was made difficult by the fact that he kept checking his phone, seeing if Dean had attempted to contact him further. He hadn't. Castiel finished up his report on sea turtles, shelved about six hundred books, helped numerous patrons, started a report on ethics in popular television shows, and ate frozen dinners. The week passed much as every other week of the past six years had. Uneventful, and buried in the spine of a book. The only difference being that this time, at the end of his week, he had plans.  
Friday night finally arrived, and Castiel stood in front of his mirror in his work clothes. Slacks and a white button down with a dark blue tie. He had replaced his glasses the day after Dean had broken them, as he would never really be used to his contacts. He pushed the glasses up on the bridge of his nose a little bit. He looked like a librarian. He couldn't go out to a bar in downtown Austin looking like he had spent all day amongst musty tomes, even though he had. He ran his fingers through his hair nervously as he looked at his reflection, and decided that was a good idea, it helped him not look so . . . uptight. He mussed his hair up some more as he went to his closet and attempted to find something else to wear.  
He ended up settling on jeans that were too tight and a black shirt that was probably too plain. He debated on wearing a maroon hoodie he had but it was September in Texas and people were still going swimming. It was probably too hot and humid out to need a hoodie. He looked at his shoes and realized with dismay the only shoes he owned were work shoes or one pair of beaten up tennis shoes. He picked those. When he looked at his reflection again, he hardly recognized himself. He hadn't worn anything other than his work clothes and pajamas for as long as he could remember. He looked like a different person entirely, even his messy hair framing his face looked drastically different to him. He grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his back pocket (which was a feat due to the tightness of his pants) and then headed out the door, hailing a taxi and telling the driver to go to Emos on sixth.  
When Castiel arrived outside the club, he felt anxiety swim up and overtake him again. Part of him wanted to get back in the taxi and tell the driver to take him back home. He wanted to peel off the jeans he was wearing, collapse into bed, and read one of his books. He took a deep breath and realized how ridiculous he was being. Dean was inside. Plus, he was a perfectly capable adult. He could handle a little drinking with some people he'd never met before. He wished that he had worn his hoodie so he could ball up his fists and hide them in his pockets. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands; they seemed so unnatural all of a sudden. No. Rational adult, he reminded himself. He walked inside.  
“Cas!” Dean called from the bar, waving Castiel over. Castiel smiled fondly at the use of his nickname. Dean still had a bandage on his head, but it was much smaller now. Castiel made a note to ask Dean how it was healing. He wore a plaid shirt over a plain gray tee-shirt and tight fitted jeans. Castiel wondered why he cared what Dean was wearing. Dean was standing with two other men, one taller with a thicker build and a scruffy beard, another shorter with words tattooed on his forearms and a frown on his face. When Castiel stood in front of Dean, Dean pulled him in for a hug and clapped him on the back. “Glad you could make it, buddy!” Dean took in his appearance. “And out of that tweed too! You actually don't look like a librarian!” Castiel laughed uncomfortably and eyed the other men. “This is Alex,” Dean gestured to the guy with the tattoos who seemed to be arguing with the other man. “And that one is Bennie. Guys, if you could shut up for two seconds-,”  
“I'm tellin' ya, it's not Bucky's fault!” Bennie said, Alex glared at him.  
“Either way, Bucky is doing Cap harm and should be put down-” Alex retorted. Bennie gasped dramatically.  
“How DARE you!” Bennie said.  
“Guys! Enough about Captain America already! This is Cas!” Dean broke in once again, an annoyed tone to his voice. The men stopped bickering and faced Castiel, dropping the frowns and angry eyes right away. Both faces melted into smiles of welcome.  
“Nice to meet ya, Cas,” Bennie said, shaking his hand in a way that made Castiel's entire arm shake.  
“Nice to meet you,” Alex said a little quieter, with a bit of a softer handshake compared to Bennie's.  
“Bucky is Cap's friend,” Castiel couldn't help the words pouring forth from his lips. “Obviously the appropriate solution is for Steve to find a way to capture him and attempt to reason with him.” Bennie's eyes seemed to twinkle at Castiel, and Alex smiled and rolled his eyes dramatically. Dean just chuckled and shook his head.  
“I've had a hell of a week,” Dean told the three. “Let's get drunk.” The four of them ordered drinks and settled into a booth, chatting about their occupations and Captain America and Dean's love for classic rock music. Castiel surprised himself by actually finding their company enjoyable. There was no awkwardness between them. It was as if he were able to just settle into their conversation relativity normally. After an hour or so of shots, insisted upon by Bennie, and Kraken rum, insisted upon by Alex, Bennie and Alex got up to play pool. Dean rolled his eyes at his friends who were clearly starting to feel the alcohol. Dean sipped idly at his beer.  
“I am thankful you invited me out!” Castiel said, perhaps a little too loud. He felt like everything was fuzzy around the edges of his brain. He hadn't consumed alcohol in a very long time. Dean could obviously handle his liquor better. Castiel felt like the world was spinning a little bit.  
“Oh yeah?” Dean asked, amused.  
“Yes! I haven't been out since Balthazar and I did the breaky thing.” Castiel announced. Concern flashed through Dean's eyes and Castiel drunkenly thought that it was a terrible emotion to see on such a pretty face. Dean should be happy always.  
“You haven't been out in . . . in that long?” Dean asked, taking another sip of his beer.  
“Nope! But I like this. I like your friends and I like you. This is fun!” Castiel said, giggling a little. Dean smiled at him and Castiel thought that was more like it, his face looked the way it was supposed to now.  
“Well we will do it again sometime. They like you too, I can tell.” Castiel sat up straighter, his eyes grew wider, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose again.  
“They do?! How do you know?!” he asked Dean, once again, a little too loud. Dean laughed.  
“Because Alex hasn't gotten all quiet on you yet, and Bennie hasn't punched you,” Dean told him. Castiel took a swig of his drink, Kraken mixed with something or other that Alex had forced in his hand.  
“You have odd friends,” Castiel told him seriously. Just then, Alex slid into the booth next to Castiel and bumped his glass against his.  
“I'm a geek and I like to drink. That's all you need to know about me!” Alex announced, drunkenly. Castiel laughed again.  
“I think I already knew both of those things about you,” Castiel told him. Alex looked shocked.  
“HOW?!” Alex demanded. Castiel turned to face him and adjusted his glasses for maximum seriousness.  
“Alex, I met you at a bar, and the first thing you said was that Cap should kill Bucky.” Dean burst out laughing, and Alex looked defeated.  
“Damn. My secret is out,” Alex mourned. “I guess this means we're besties now,” he said, punching Castiel lightly in the shoulder.  
“I do not understand this term . . . ‘besties’?” Castiel asked.  
“I love how even though Cas is drunk off his ass, he can still be all serious librarian,” Dean said. Castiel turned towards Dean with an air of haughtiness about him.  
“I am a serious librarian, sir,” he told Dean with a flourish of his hand. “An extremely serious librarian.” Dean held a straight face for all of three seconds after Castiel's little confession before he started laughing again. The rest of the night passed by in a blur. Dean called a taxi for Castiel, got him loaded up, and gave the driver his address.  
“You gonna be okay, Cas?” Dean asked him. Castiel groaned and looked up at him.  
“I am sure I will be fine, Dean,” Castiel told him with all of the strength he could muster, despite the fact he did not feel fine. Dean smiled at him with that smile that lit up his whole face, and patted Castiel on the shoulder.  
“Take care, Cas. Text me when you're home, okay?” Castiel nodded and shooed him away. Dean laughed again and shut the door for him. Castiel didn't remember the ride home except for some flashing lights and barked orders from the driver not to throw up in the car. Castiel remembered arriving home because he remembered the tremendous effort lugging himself out of the taxi required. He remembered opening his apartment door, and going into the bathroom immediately and falling to his knees in front of the toilet and vomiting profusely. He wasn't sure how long he stayed there, but it must have been a while. The next thing he knew, cool hands were brushing back his hair and someone was passing him water. Castiel looked up to meet Dean's green eyes.  
“How'd you get in?” Castiel half slurred, half groaned.  
“Picked the lock,” Dean said, looking guilty. Something else was wrong about his face too, but Castiel wasn't sure what. Everything looked blurred. “You didn't text me back, Cas. Or answer your phone.” Castiel groaned and leaned his cheek against the toilet seat again.  
“Mmm sorry,” Castiel mumbled. Dean smiled a little.  
“It's okay man. Here, take this. It'll help.” Pills were shoved into his hand and he didn't even ask what they were before he threw them into his mouth and drank another big gulp of water. “You feel like you're done throwing up?” Dean asked him. Castiel squinted as he thought about it.  
“I think so.” Dean nodded and pulled him to his feet.  
“Brush your teeth, dude. You'll thank me in the morning,” Dean ordered. Castiel did so unthinkingly, although he didn't like the way the toothpaste flavor sat in his mouth, it almost caused him to throw up again. Dean walked him back into his bedroom and looked him up and down. “Okay, we gotta get you comfortable. Uh . . . take off your shoes.” Castiel, instead, plopped onto the edge of the bed with his hands on his head.  
“Everything hurtsssss,” he whined. Dean rolled his eyes.  
“You're a big baby,” he told Castiel as he knelt down and took off Castiel's shoes and socks for him. “Okay, uh . . . what about your jeans?” Dean asked. “You don't wanna sleep in those, right? You're gonna have to take them off, Cas.”  
“Hurtsssss,” Castiel whined again, clearly not being of any help to Dean, his eyes were shut in pain. Dean took a deep breath.  
“Alright, I'm going to take your pants off for you. Don't kill me. And don't think I'm weird.” Castiel nodded, still not opening his eyes. He felt hands at his zip and decided to look. At some point, Dean had pulled him so he was standing up again, and he was looking down at Castiel's fly as he unzipped it. Castiel watched Dean's face, watched how Dean licked his lips, felt how Dean's fingers skidded, unsure over his hipbones. Maybe this was all just him being drunk and imaging things. Dean grunted as he pushed Castiel's pants down to expose his boxer briefs. “Damn, Cas. What'd you do, paint these on?” He knelt down to pull them off of Castiel's legs and Castiel was lost in the erotic sight that was Dean on his knees in front of him, pulling off his pants. Before he knew it, Castiel lost his balance and went toppling back down onto the bed with an undignified squeak. Dean laughed and finished taking Castiel's pants off. “You okay, Cas?”  
“Super duper, Dean,” Castiel ground out.  
“Get under the covers,” Dean ordered. Castiel did as he was told. There was some shuffling about and Dean came back. “I put a trashcan here just in case you need to barf more, okay?” Castiel gave Dean a thumbs up. “Is it cool if I crash in your living room?”  
“Sure, Dean,” Castiel told him. “Blankets in the closet.”  
“Thanks, Cas. If you need anything, let me know. I'll be right out there.” Dean gestured to the bedroom door, and then next thing Castiel knew the lights were shut out, and he was positive he fell asleep instantly after that.  
The next morning was brought to fruition with a buzzing noise and a headache to rival brain surgery. Castiel blinked. Everything was too bright, everything was too loud. His stomach felt like a small ocean was trapped inside of it, making waves. He wanted to throw up, but dimly realized there was nothing left inside him for him to throw up. He looked over at his nightstand and found a glass of water and two pills. How had those gotten there? Castiel squinted at them and tried to recall the events of last night. His mind instantly brought up an image of Dean kneeling before him, taking off his pants. Oh god. What had he done? He looked around but saw no sign of Dean. He took the pills and drank the water gratefully, thinking he really needed food in his stomach. Just as that thought came to him, the scent of bacon attacked his senses. Castiel listened closely. Was that . . . singing?  
Castiel threw back the covers and padded into the hallway. The singing was louder, the sounds of bacon frying accompanied the voice, and someone was drumming metal on metal along with the beat, the sound made Castiel cringe.  
“Sweet home Alabama!” Dean Winchester sang in Castiel's kitchen as he flipped the bacon, dancing a little bit as he went, swaying his hips to the beat he kept. “Where the skies are so blue!” Castiel was amazed. So it hadn't been a dream. Dean really was here last night. And in his kitchen. Singing. Castiel sat down at the bar noisily and Dean jumped and spun around, smiling a crinkle-eyed smile when he saw Castiel. “Good morning, sunshine! You're lookin' peachy!” Dean chuckled. Castiel put his head in his hands.  
“What . . . what happened last night?” Castiel asked, afraid of the answer. Dean shrugged.  
“You got drunk, came home, puked a whole lot-,” Castiel felt his stomach roll just at the mention of puke “and I picked your lock, got you into bed and a little cleaned up, although, judging by that mystery stain on your shirt, not cleaned up enough.” Castiel looked down at himself in horror and realized there was in fact, vomit on his shirt. And that he only wore a shirt and his boxer briefs.  
“I need to shower,” Castiel groaned. Dean nodded in agreement. “You picked my lock?” Castiel asked, looking up at Dean from in between his fingers. Dean seemed to look guilty.  
“Yeah . . . sorry. You weren't answering your phone.”  
“That's an awful lot to do for a friend you'd only just met . . .Does Anna know you're here?” Castiel asked. Dean bit his lip and flipped the bacon onto a plate.  
“Well . . . here's the thing. I went home last night and, uh . . . I caught her . . . with some guy. So I stormed out. I came over here to ask if I could crash because your place is pretty close . . . but you weren't answering your phone. So I started to panic, thought maybe you'd died of alcohol poisoning or something, and that's when I found you . . .”  
“Oh,” Castiel breathed. “Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry.” Dean turned his back to Castiel to finish scooping eggs onto a plate.  
“It's . . . it's not like I didn't know. I just need to figure out what to do next. How to save our marriage. But I need to cool off first.” Dean slid Castiel a plate of eggs and bacon and toast and a glass of water. “Is it okay if I stay here? Just for the weekend, I swear.” Castiel smiled at Dean around a bite of bacon.  
“Of course it is, Dean. You are more than welcome to stay for however long you need.” Castiel thought about what Dean had said. That he intended on saving his marriage. He had a bad feeling about that, he wanted to tell Dean that he shouldn't bother saving what was already broken, but now was not the time. Then, a sad realization came to Castiel's mind. Did he want Dean to give up on his marriage because it would be best for Dean, or did Castiel want that because it would be best for himself? Castiel swallowed his bacon and rubbed his forehead again. Another troubling thought came to Castiel. Did he like Dean for Dean, or because he was just lonely?  
“Hey man. You okay?” Dean asked him, sitting down beside him with his own plate.  
“Yes, just hungover. I am never drinking again,” he mumbled, eating a bite of eggs. Dean laughed at him.  
“That's what they all say.”  
Castiel finished eating and took a shower, he got dressed in sweatpants and an old t-shirt, and walked into the living room to find Dean on his couch, flipping through TV channels. He plopped down on the couch beside Dean.  
“I hope you don't mind, I don't plan on leaving the apartment today. I still feel like . . . well, like garbage,” Castiel told Dean, leaning back against the couch. Dean smiled at him.  
“That's fine, man. I get it. I've been hungover before, too,” he told Castiel.  
“I didn't even know the TV still turned on.”  
“Oh hey! Buffy!” Dean exclaimed, his entire face lighting up.  
“Who?” Castiel asked. Dean turned and gave Castiel a weird look.  
“Uh . . . Buffy the Vampire Slayer?” When Castiel gave no hint of recognition, Dean made an exasperated sound. “That's it. I know what we're doing today. Buffy marathon. It's time you got out of the books, Giles.”  
“What did you just call me?” Dean laughed and found the first episode on Netflix.  
“You'll get it soon enough, Rupert.”  
“I am so confused.”  
“Just be quiet and enjoy some of Joss Whedon's best work. I present to you, Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”  
The rest of the day was spent in a haze of cheesy vampires and overdone stunts, yet even Castiel could admit the show held some charm. When they were halfway through the second season, they decided to order pizza and Dean walked to the corner store to get beer, which Castiel refused to touch. They curled back up on the couch and continued their marathon.  
“I see why you call me Giles now,” Castiel said as Giles beat up the bad guy while using perfect grammar. Dean rolled his eyes.  
“THAT is not why I called you Giles, Mr. Librarian,” Dean said, nudging his shoulder.  
“So who does that make you, hmm, Dean? The aloof, romantic Angel? The idiotic loyal Xander?” Dean shook his head.  
“Obviously not either of those.”  
“Who then?”  
“I'm Buffy,” Dean said, pretending to flip his hair and roll his eyes. Castiel laughed and Dean batted his eyelashes at him.  
“Quit wiggin', Giles,” he told Castiel in a falsetto voice. They continued watching Buffy until late in the night, and finally Castiel had to call it quits. He got up and stretched.  
“I am going to bed, Dean. Feel free to keep watching. The noise doesn't bother me.” Dean pressed pause.  
“Nah, man. You'd miss all the good parts.”  
“I could always watch it later . . .”  
“What? And watch it without me? You wouldn't dare!” Dean said. Castiel felt a warmth in his chest, and a feeling of hope. That means Dean would have to come over and watch it with him some other time.  
“Okay, I'll wait for you.”  
“Promise?”  
“Of course, Dean.”  
“Night, Cas,” Dean called out as Castiel walked to his room.  
“Goodnight, Dean.”  
The next morning, Castiel awoke to a frantic voice coming from his living room. He lurched out of bed before realizing that the voice was Dean's, that Dean was in his apartment. Castiel got up and brushed his teeth and got dressed in slacks and a white button down, his regular garb. Then he walked out into the living room.  
“I know that, Anna,” Dean said through gritted teeth into his phone. “Listen, you're the one who- YES, I will be coming back . . . don't be ridiculous . . . FINE. FINE. I'll take her for the day. Calm down.” Castiel waved good morning and Dean waved back and Castiel went into the kitchen to make some pancakes, trying as hard as he could not to listen. “Yeah, I'll be there in an hour. That's fine. Bye.” Dean sat down at the breakfast bar and put his face in his hands.  
“Dare I ask, what is up?” Castiel inquired as he whisked batter together in a bowl. He hadn't cooked in so long, it felt like stretching his muscles for the first time in forever.  
“Anna is freaking out because she has 'work things' to do today and she needs me to watch Samantha,” Dean explained, eyeing Cas up and down. “Do you work on Sunday?” Dean asked.  
“No? Why would you think that?”  
“You're dressed like you're going into work. Or church. Are you going to church?”  
“No, Dean. I do not go to church. Do you?”  
“No.”  
“These are just my . . . my clothes.” Dean's mouth dropped open in response to Castiel's words.  
“No way,” Dean said.  
“What?”  
“No freakin' way! Was that one pair of jeans and that one black tee the only laid back clothes you own?” Castiel could feel himself blushing and was grateful that the pancakes gave him a chance to turn away as he spooned batter into the pan. “They are! I know what we're doing today.”  
“Don't you have to pick up Samantha?”  
“Sammy loves shopping, don't you worry.” And that is how Castiel ended up serving pancakes to a four year old little girl. She had Dean's bright green eyes and freckles, and unlike Dean she had straight red hair. Also, unlike Dean, she wasn't so easily trusting of Castiel. The two sat across his dining room table and eyed each other with uncertainty. Dean had gotten up to use the bathroom and Castiel attempted to make small talk.  
“So . . . Samantha . . . what do you do for fun?” Samantha chewed her pancake quietly while looking at him with unblinking eyes. “ . . . Do you like . . . to go swimming?”  
“Swimming is okay,” she mumbled. Castiel did have some experience with children, of course, but he had never met one so strong willed. Castiel wondered if she got it from her mother.  
“Do you like to read?”  
“Uncle Sam taught me a little bit, but I'm supposed to learn next year when I start school.”  
“Oh.”  
“But you like to read, right? What do you read about?” she asked, looking around his apartment. “Princesses?” Castiel smiled, feeling like he was finally getting somewhere.  
“Sometimes I read about ancient princesses. Like Cleopatra.”  
“Who is she?” Samantha asked, eyes growing larger as she leaned forward across the table more.  
“She was a princess in Egypt. She fell in love with Mark Antony and started a war for him.”  
“How romantic!” Samantha exclaimed. Castiel chuckled.  
“Yes, I suppose so. Except they lost the battle. When Cleopatra saw she was losing, she abandoned her fleet and sailed far away. She found a cave somewhere and ordered her servant to bring her a snake.”  
“Ew! A snake! Why?”  
“Because the Egyptians believed that suicide-,”  
“Alright, that's enough story time for now you two!” Dean said, sitting down next to Samantha and shooting Castiel a pointed look. “A little bit less about the S-U-I-C-I-D-E, eh Cas?” Dean spelled out the word so Samantha wouldn't know what they were talking about. Castiel looked down at his pancakes.  
“Apologies, Dean.”  
“I want to hear more about the princess, though!” Samantha whined, looking at Dean. Dean kissed her forehead.  
“Another time, princess. Finish your pancakes,” Dean told her. Castiel smiled at the way Dean interacted with his daughter. He thought the way his eyes went all gooey when he looked at her was adorable. “So, Sammy, we were planning on going shopping today to help Cas here pick out some new clothes that aren't so boring. Wanna help be his fashion designer?” Samantha seemed to bob up and down with a hyper energy.  
“Yes! I love being a fashion designer!”  
“Dean, I was thinking after that, if it's okay with you, we could go swimming at the lake?” Castiel asked.  
“Yay! Swimming!” Samantha said.  
“Did mommy pack your swimsuit?” Dean asked her.  
“She always does. She packed two so I could pick.”  
“Okay, sure. We can go swimming.” Dean looked up at Castiel, “Got any trunks I could borrow?” Castiel nodded. “That aren't tweed?”  
“Haha very funny.” Castiel sassed. Dean winked and Castiel got up to clear up the plates.  
Shopping was more fun than Castiel had thought it would be. They went to the mall and Samantha ran around picking out various colorful items of clothing and demanding Castiel try them on. Dean laughed and let Sammy do what she wanted.  
“You're a human barbie doll today, Cas,” he told Castiel. Castiel found he didn't mind so much. Samantha was having a good time, and some of the clothes she picked out weren't too garish, so he actually ended up buying a few of the shirts she'd thrown at him, much to her delight. He bought a few pairs of jeans and a new pair of shoes, and then decided he'd done enough shopping. They walked to the lake and changed in a bathroom at a gas station where they had stopped to get snacks. The rest of the afternoon was spent with Castiel and Samantha and Dean splashing around. Castiel carried Samantha on his shoulders and she bopped Dean on the head, giggling.  
“Look, daddy! I'm taller than you!” Dean laughed and tickled her toes which made her near impossible to hold on to. Castiel taught her how to do backstroke and how to do flips underwater. Samantha seemed to be glued to him. At one point Castiel glanced up and saw Dean watching them with a fond smile in his eyes.  
“What?” Castiel asked him. Dean shook his head, his hair spiked with the water.  
“Nothin'. You're just so good with her. It's awesome.” Castiel lifted Samantha out of the water and threw her through the air as she giggled.  
“I think I might like her,” he said as he picked her up again and launched her once more. “She's okay.”  
“Just okay?!” Samantha screamed. Castiel picked her up and blew a raspberry on her tummy.  
“Fine, Princess Samantha is amazing!” Samantha giggled. Eventually, the sun started to go down and the three of them hopped in a taxi and went back to Dean's house.  
“Hey man, thanks for everything,” Dean said before getting out. “Seriously, I had a great weekend, despite everything. You're awesome.” Castiel smiled back at him.  
“It was no trouble at all, Dean. You are welcome anytime. As is she.” Castiel gestured to Samantha, who had fallen asleep in his lap with her face pressed against his chest and her little fists clinging to his shirt. Castiel was brushing his fingers through her red hair. “Samantha . . . you're home. You have to wake up, sweetie,” Castiel whispered softly. She blinked slowly and yawned, snuggling into his chest more. Castiel couldn't help the burst of affection he felt towards the little girl. He kissed her forehead. “Samantha, you have to get up.” In the end, Dean was able to pry her off of Castiel, he thanked Castiel one more time, and then he departed into his house. Castiel gave the driver his address and sat back, wondering when he would get to see Dean and his lovely daughter again, and fearing that they had both stolen his heart.


	3. Familiar Mirror

Chapter Three: Familiar Mirror 

“Well Dean, if she agreed to go to couple's therapy, that is a start I suppose,” Castiel whispered, the phone pressed to his ear as he shelved books in the library.   
“I just feel like it was fake, Cas. Like she agreed to it just to . . . to appease me.”  
“Appease. That is a big word for you. I can see I have some good influence on you,” Castiel teased Dean as he pushed the cart.   
“Ha freakin' ha, Cas. You're killin' me,” Dean growled back. Castiel smiled even though Dean wasn't there to see him.   
“When is your first appointment with the therapist?” Castiel asked. Someone shushed him and he waved at them apologetically, mouthing the word “sorry”.   
“It's next week. I have a funny feeling something will come up. It always does.”  
“Hmm. Well, I would give her a chance. Do not assume the worst just yet,” Castiel whispered even quieter.   
“What?”   
“I said to give her a chance,” Castiel whispered again.  
“Dude, why are you whispering? I can hardly hear you,” Dean asked.   
“Because I work in a library, Dean!” Castiel said loudly. A chorus of “shhh” rang out from around him and Dean's cackling came from the phone. Castiel glared. “Oh, that was low, Dean Winchester. I am hanging up now.”   
“No no! Don't hang up yet! Wanna grab a beer at Emos tomorrow?”   
“Yes, Nine works for me, I know, I won't wear tweed,” Castiel answered all of the questions he knew Dean was bound to ask, “Now I'm going to go before I lose my job!” Dean laughed in response and Castiel hung up the phone. It was getting more and more difficult to offer Dean nonobjective advice about Anna. What he wanted to do was tell Dean to leave her, grab Samantha, and head over to Castiel's place and they could all three live happily ever after. Instead, he tried to remain level headed. Dean was married, and he would never encroach upon that. Dean trusted him to talk him through this, and it was Castiel's job as his friend to offer insightful advice that would actually help him. Because Castiel did want to help Dean, more than anything. He wanted Dean to be happy. He wanted Samantha to be happy. So what if that came at the cost of his own happiness? He would give whatever it took.

That night Castiel tossed and turned. He dreamed of the city on fire. The frost bank tower was melting, glass falling like hail and ash falling like snow. Smoke filled the air and heat shoved everyone away from the crumbling city. Castiel ran through the streets, coughing. He was looking for something. No, someone. He was looking for someone. He kept running, kept coughing.   
“CAS!” Castiel looked up and saw Dean standing on a hill that overlooked the city. “CAS JUST FLY MAN! GET OUT OF THERE!” Dean shouted. Castiel felt something on his back pull him violently upwards and he moved his mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out. He looked behind him and saw giant black wings had grown from his back, and were lifting him upwards, towards Dean. Castiel landed beside him and Dean hugged him tightly and Castiel felt Dean's warm breath on his suddenly cold skin. “Cas I thought you were gone. Don't do that to me,” Dean said, tears in his eyes. Castiel put a hand to the side of Dean's face, and told him,  
“I'd burn down the city just to show you the lights,” Castiel told him. Dean looked out over Austin, the flames reflecting in his still tear stricken eyes. His hand gripped Castiel's and they sat together and watched the city burn.   
Castiel awoke with a start and couldn't sleep the rest of the night. 

“I just don't know, Cas. I'm going crazy. On one end I have Anna, probably sleeping with like fifty guys at a time and I want to stay with her, I really do. I think it's the best thing I can do for our daughter, and I loved Anna, I know we can find that again. On the other end I have this damn art show . . .” Dean ran his paint stained fingers through his hair. “It's in a week. I'm no where near ready but I feel like if I spend any more time at that damn studio I'm going to go crazy.” Castiel patted Dean on the back reassuringly.   
“The art show will be amazing and I know you will finish in time. I am excited to see it. Anna is . . . an odd case. Has she said anything to you about it? Anything at all?” Dean shook his head.   
“Not even sorry. God it was awful, Cas. In our bed too. I can't . . .” Dean rubbed his eyes, “I can't get that awful image out of my mind,” Dean groaned. Castiel sighed, taking a sip of his beer.   
“Well. At least she agreed to go to the therapist with you next week. You two defiantly need to talk this out.”   
“Yeah. I just hope we can.”   
“Dean,” Castiel turned towards him, already cringing at the words that were about to come out of his mouth, “Dean are you sure you want to stay with her?” Dean gave him a quizzical look. “Hear me out. Staying in an unhealthy relationship isn't the best thing for your daughter. Seeing you both happy is. If Anna isn't willing to talk to you about it, isn't even sorry . . . well . . . I don't know if I see the point. Even if you do love her, is it worth loving someone when you aren't loved back?” Castiel told himself he was giving Dean this advice because it was the best advice for Dean. He told himself that he was still being nonobjective, and he wasn't saying these things because he wanted Dean and Anna to break up so he and Dean could be together. Those things were all true . . . weren't they? Dean took another chug of beer.   
“I just hope it doesn't have to come to that, Cas. I think if she doesn't go to therapy next week like she says she is going to . . . and she isn't willing to talk about it . . . it's going to have to be over.” Castiel felt a painful spike of hope, and felt instantly bad for it.   
“No matter what happens, I'm here for you Dean,” Castiel told him with a small smile. Dean pulled Castiel in for a hug.   
“Thank you, Cas. I know we haven't known each other long, but I'm really glad to have you as a friend.” A friend, Castiel reminded himself. Just a friend.   
“I'm glad to have you as well, Dean,” Castiel told him before they pulled apart.   
Dean's calls after that night got more and more spaced out. Anna didn't go to the therapy appointment, and Dean wanted to talk to her one on one but couldn't find the time, what with the art show being that weekend. Dean slept in the studio most nights, calling Castiel every once in a while to confirm he was alive. Castiel could tell he was devastated about Anna, but that he was waiting until after the show to bring it up to her. He couldn't afford a fight right now. He had to focus on the show. Castiel had offered to bring Dean dinner at the studio several times, but Dean had refused each time, saying he wanted the art to be a surprise to Castiel, who had not seen his work thus far. Castiel truly did not know what to expect, but knowing Dean, he thought it would be amazing.  
Castiel was starting to get worried. He hadn't heard from Dean in a day and a half, the show was on Saturday, and it was Thursday. Castiel called him, but Dean did not answer. He texted him, but Dean did not respond. He had even texted Bennie and Alex asking if they had heard from Dean, but they hadn't. Castiel paced his apartment, wishing he had gotten the address of Dean's studio instead of just a vague idea of the area of town it was in. A knock sounded at the door and Castiel rushed to it. A paint splattered, wild eyed Dean stood on his doorstep.   
“YOU IDIOT WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN WHY HAVE YOU NOT PICKED UP YOUR PHONE?!” Castiel shouted instantly, grabbing Dean and pulling him into the apartment, slamming the door closed, and throwing his arms around Dean. “I WAS WORRIED SICK!” Dean hugged Castiel back instantly.   
“I'm sorry man! I have been so caught up in all the work I've been doing and I'm freakin' out that I won't finish and I don't know what to do, I'm working as fast as possible and I haven't left the studio in two days and I can't go home but I . . . I just . . .” Castiel pulled away from Dean to look in his eyes.   
“Yes?”   
“I needed to go somewhere and so I started walking and my feet led me here. I should get back . . .” Dean made as if to leave and Castiel grabbed him by the front of his shirt, marched him over to the couch and shoved him down onto it.   
“OH NO YOU DON'T DEAN WINCHESTER. YOU WILL SIT ON THAT COUCH AND YOU WILL STAY THERE UNTIL I SAY OTHERWISE!” Castiel shouted. Dean looked up at him with an impressed kind of fear.   
“But-,” Dean started.   
“SHUT UP!” Castiel went into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a bowl of left over spaghetti and shoved both into Dean's hands. “You look like you haven't eaten in days.” Dean looked guiltily at the bowl of pasta. “You haven't, have you?” Castiel asked. Dean shook his head. “Starving yourself won't help you, idiot. Now eat.” Dean did as he was told, realizing a few bites in how hungry he was.   
“Damn Cas, I kinda like you all barkin' orders.” Dean teased, nudging Castiel with a wink. Castiel didn't know whether to blush or roll his eyes, so he did both.   
“Idiot.” Castiel turned on Buffy and they watched a few episodes, sitting knee to knee on the large couch Castiel owned in comfortable silence. After a while, Dean got up and brushed his hands on his jeans.   
“Cas I really should be getting back.”   
“How long has it been since you've slept?” Castiel asked him, taking in the bags under Dean's eyes.   
“Umm . . . I don't . . . I think I got a few hours in last night?” Dean seemed uncertain, which meant he probably hadn't. Castiel yanked Dean back down onto the couch and got up and threw a blanket at him.   
“You are sleeping here, I will make you breakfast tomorrow morning before work and then you are allowed to leave.” Castiel demanded.   
“Are you . . . are you holding me hostage?” Dean asked. Castiel leveled him with a glare.   
“I am.”   
“But . . . you can't do that . . . I have work to do . . .”   
“Try and stop me.” Castiel said, fairly sure in a fight, Dean would win. But he was willing to try anyway. Dean shook his head and lay down, mumbling about how Castiel was a controlling dominant asshole who cared too much. He also caught the phrase,   
“Guess we know who's a top,” as he went in the kitchen to put the bowl in the sink. Castiel peeked his head around the corner.   
“On occasion, yes. I love to make people scream my name.” Castiel said, his voice lower than usual. Dean's eyes widened comically. Castiel shrugged. “If you didn't want to know, you shouldn't make jokes about it. Goodnight, Dean. If you are not here in the morning I will find you and kill you,” he said casually, “also, you won't get bacon.”   
“Night, Cas.” Castiel smiled and went into his room. 

The day of the art show had finally arrived. Castiel picked up his suit from the dry cleaners and ate lunch with Alex.   
“I mean I totally support Dean, I really do. I just . . . a suit?” Alex cringed as he said the words. “I hate suits.” Castiel rolled his eyes at Alex.   
“I hardly think you will die,” Castiel told him around a bite of salad.   
“That's easy for you to say! You like . . . live in suits!” Castiel chuckled at him.   
“Welcome to my world, I guess.” They had an enjoyable time, and parted with promises to see each other later that night. Castiel went home and showered and changed. He took his time getting ready, straightening his bow tie. True, he did live in suits, but he did not normally wear such dressy suits. He wore black slacks with a white shirt and a black jacket with a dark blue bow tie that set off his eyes. He combed his hair back so it wasn't standing up haphazardly on his head and he glanced at his contact case before he settled on his glasses and slid them on. He polished his shoes and sprayed himself in a subtle cologne. He then grabbed Dean's gift in one hand, and slung his trench coat over his arm. Tonight was supposed to be chilly, for Texas anyway. He hailed a cab and gave the cabbie the address of a nice art studio in the hill country.   
As the car drove on, Castiel fiddled with a wrapped package in his hands, turning it over and over. It had taken Castiel some time to decide what to get Dean, or if he should even get Dean anything. But then, Castiel had thought this was a special occasion, and Dean deserved a gift to celebrate all of his hard work. He had eventually settled on a Buffy case for Dean's paints, and a stuffed “Mr. Gordo” from the show for Samantha.   
The taxi pulled up outside a swanky building. The entire front of the building was composed of floor to ceiling windows, lights twinkled in the trees and soft music played from inside. People were pulling up in limos and getting out of cars in gowns made up of silk and diamond. Castiel wondered just how famous an artist Dean was. He payed the cabbie and walked up the path and had the door opened for him by a man in a suit, who offered to take his coat. Castiel handed him the trench coat graciously and stepped inside. The soft music he had heard from outside was actually Stairway to Heaven. Castiel smiled. Of course Dean would insist on classic rock music. Castiel walked down a hall and into the main room. His breath was stolen from him.   
Dean was an incredible artist. He had taken the style from Renaissance paintings and applied it to modern topics. There was a painting of Samantha kneeling down at a duck pond, the awe upon her face so incredibly life-like that Castiel wanted to reach out and touch. There were paintings of the frost bank tower, of fields of blue bonnets, of people walking up and down a crowed South Congress done in a wonderful pointillism fashion. Then there were paintings that showcased what a geek Dean was. There was a character that looked very much like Buffy, sitting on the edge of the building in the moonlight, looking up at the stars. A metallic silver cross shining from her throat. There was a painting of barrels being washed away in a thrashing river, hands clutching the sides and wild braided hair flying out of them that was clearly inspired by The Hobbit. There was a beautiful portrait of Spock, and a picture of the TARDIS from Doctor Who perched perfectly atop the Austin Capital building. Castiel gazed around in awe and let his feet sweep him through the room. He was just admiring a painting of a shaggy haired, tweed-clad figure laying on a sidewalk with books scattered all around him when someone whispered into his ear,  
“Thought you'd like that one.” Castiel jumped and whirled around to face Dean. He blushed instantly. Dean was dressed incredibly well. He was wearing a tuxedo that was tailored to fit him perfectly. Castiel did his best not to stare, but damn did he clean up nice.   
“Did you paint me?” Castiel asked. Dean shrugged, looking embarrassed.   
“Hope you don't mind. You were . . . well. That day you managed to make what should've been an awful day one of the best days I've had in a long time. I couldn't help but paint it. The eyes took me entirely too long.” Castiel glanced back at the painting and saw his own eyes staring back out at him.   
“They are perfect.” He breathed, wondering how Dean was able to muster that much talent. “You are very good at your craft, Dean.” He looked at the title of the painting and noticed it was called Tortoises, which caused him to laugh. He gestured towards the title. “No one but you or I will understand that reference.” Dean grinned at him, blushing.   
“That's kind of the point.” They stared at each other for what seemed like a small eternity when they were interrupted by a woman in a low cut, floor length black gown. Her red hair was pinned back severely behind her head and her bright green eyes glinted. She wore a beautiful wedding ring and sparkling sapphires in her ears. She clasped Dean's arm and broke his trance.   
“Who is this, honey?” She asked. Dean looked uncomfortable in her embrace.   
“This is Castiel Novak. The inspiration behind Tortoises. Castiel, this is my wife, Anna.” Castiel held out his hand and Anna regarded it coldly before shaking it.   
“Pleasure to meet you,” Castiel lied. She had on a dazzlingly false smile as she spoke.   
“You as well, Mr. Novak. Funny, in all the pictures here he has one dedicated to just about everyone besides me,” She said in a sugary evil voice. Castiel found he did not like Anna. He had no idea what to say, and was left gaping at her, searching for words. He looked to Dean frantically but Dean seemed to be looking everywhere but Anna and Castiel. A strong hand clapped him on the shoulder and Castiel looked over to see Alex had come to his rescue.   
“Well, you know Anna, not everyone looks quite as good sprawled out on the pavement as our Mr. Novak here. Plus just look at those eyes! How could one resist painting those bad boys?” Alex said, pinching Castiel's cheek.   
“Alex. Good to see you again,” Anna said, coldly. Alex raised his drink to her.   
“I wish I could say the same,” Alex told her with a wink as he took a sip of his champagne. Alex still had his arm around Castiel's shoulders. Castiel felt himself growing bright red at the awkwardness of this situation. Anna rolled her eyes.   
“I'll leave you to talk to your . . .” she sent an ugly glance Alex's way, eying him up and down, “your friends, darling.” She said before slithering away. The moment she was out of earshot the three men visibly relaxed. Castiel hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, but he felt the instant relief of air fill his lungs; as if he had been drowning. Alex released him finally.   
“I owe you my gratitude, Alex.” Alex smiled and punched his arm playfully.   
“Anything for my bestie.” Alex flounced away to flirt with an attractive shorter woman in a beautiful dress who was laughing loudly with her friends about squids. Castiel looked to Dean, who had his eyes closed and was pinching the bridge of his nose.   
“I am sorry, Dean,” Castiel mumbled, unable to think of words to say. Dean's eyes shot open and he lowered his hand.   
“For what, Cas?”   
“For causing that awkward situation. This is your special night and you shouldn't have to-,” Dean stopped him.   
“Cas that wasn't your fault, that was Anna's. She's . . .”   
“Socially inept?” Dean chuckled at Castiel's words.   
“I was going to say a bitch. She's a bitch.” Castiel tried to shake off the feeling of discomfort and handed Dean the wrapped packages in his hands.  
“This one is for you, and this one is for Samantha.” Dean grinned and opened the one for him. His eyes seemed to twinkle as he beheld the Buffy case. “I figured you could use it for some of your paints or brushes . . .” Next thing he knew, Castiel was enveloped in a tight hug.   
“Thank you Cas. It's perfect. You didn't have to-,” Dean mumbled into his ear. Castiel hugged him back.   
“I know. I wanted to. You deserved a treat, even if it is a small one.” Dean pulled back and Castiel could've sworn there were tears in his eyes.   
“It's perfect,” Dean repeated gruffly, clearing his throat. A small form was suddenly launched into Castiel's leg and wrapped around him, nearly calling him to fall over.   
“CAS CAS CAS CAS!” It was Samantha. Castiel grinned and swung her up into his arms.   
“PRINCESS!” Castiel said, tossing her gently into the air. She looked adorable, her red hair was curled and pinned up, she was wearing a sparkly blue dress with a fluffy skirt. “You look radiant, your majesty.” Samantha giggled and clung to his neck, hugging him close.   
“I missed you, Cas,” she told him. He kissed her forehead.   
“I missed you too, princess.”   
“Cas here got you a present,” Dean handed her the package. Castiel sat her down so she could open it. She squealed with delight when she saw it.   
“He's so cute! He's the cutest piggy in the whole wide world!” She shouted. People were looking over at them now, making a scene. Dean just ignored them, smiling down at Samantha and Castiel who was kneeling to be level with her.   
“Do you like it, princess?” Samantha wrapped her arms around his neck again and kissed him on the cheek.   
“I love it! Thank you so much!” She told him. He helped her open it and then she hugged it tightly to her chest and ran off to show her Mother. Castiel stood up and Dean walked him over to the refreshments table to grab a glass of champagne. Before they were able to get their drinks, another person bombarded them. A man taller than Dean came up and wrapped his arms around Dean.   
“Damn it Sammy! Let me go!”   
“Not a chance!” The man said, his hair was long and flying about wildly as he lifted Dean up off the ground and spun him around.   
“Sammy!” Finally, Dean was put down. Castiel was just staring at them, wondering if this night could get any more strange. Dean glared at the man and then introduced him to Castiel. “Cas, this is Sammy, my little brother, Sammy this is Cas, my best friend.” Sam took his hand and shook it.   
“Nice to finally meet ya man. Dean won't shut up about you.” Castiel took in Sam, the giant that he was and smiled at Dean.   
“Little brother Dean?” Dean glowered at Castiel and folded his arms in front of him as if he were imitating his daughter.   
“Yeah, Cas. Little brother.” Dean turned to get them champagne and passed a glass to Sam and Castiel each, mumbling about how Castiel couldn't say anything about being little since he was the shortest guy he knew. Castiel smiled and made small talk with Sam. He found that he quite liked Sam. He was intelligent and actually interested in what Castiel had to say about his job, saying research librarian was his second choice. He was a lawyer, he lived about two hours away in San Antonio and he was about to ask his girlfriend to marry him.   
“Congratulations, Sammy,” Dean grunted, eying his own wife as she talked with a friend.   
“Well she hasn't said yes yet, Dean,” Sam told him, smiling into his champagne.   
“She'd be a fool not to, Sam,” Castiel said with a smile. He looked up and caught Dean staring over at him. Their eyes met and Dean held his gaze yet again. Castiel felt as if his heart was stuck in his throat. Sam coughed, grinning mischievously into his drink and broke their trance. Anna hurried over and threw a tearful Samantha into Dean's arms. He sat down his champagne glass and tucked a loose curl over her ear.   
“What's the matter darlin'?” Dean asked her.   
“Mommy says it's time to go,” she whined, “but I want to stay.” Dean looked up at Anna.   
“You're leaving early?” He asked, hurt sounding in his voice. Anna rolled her eyes.   
“It's past her bedtime. Honestly, did you expect your daughter to stay up that late?” she asked.   
“The show is only going until ten, Anna,” Dean said.   
“Well her bed time is nine.”   
“It's eight. I've worked really hard on this. Can't you just stay a little while longer to-,” Anna snatched Samantha back from Dean and threw Dean a venomous look.   
“I showed up, didn't I? What more do you want? Goodnight, Dean.” Castiel looked at Dean in shock at Anna's brash attitude. Dean was staring sadly at his feet.   
“Yeah. Okay. Goodnight.”   
“Night, Cas!” Samantha called, waving at him from Anna's arms. Anna glared at Castiel as he waved back and blew her a kiss.   
“Goodnight Princess!” When Anna had gone, Dean still looked upset. Castiel put a hand on his shoulder and Dean looked up at him, sharing more in a look than could ever be put in words.   
“Are you okay?” Castiel asked him.  
“Yeah.” Dean lied.   
“How about after this, we go to the bar to celebrate? You, Sam, Alex, Bennie and I?” Castiel suggested. Sam was immediately on board, saying he was in town for the weekend. Dean brightened a little bit. They stayed until the end of the show. Dean sold almost every single painting, except one. Castiel smiled standing in front of it.   
“Guess my tweed wasn't as intriguing to everyone else as it was to you,” Castiel told Dean as he came up beside Castiel. Dean shrugged.   
“This was the only one not for sale. I uh . . . I kind of wanted to keep it.” Castiel turned to look at Dean in shock.   
“Out of all the paintings here . . .” he breathed.   
“Well I couldn't let anyone take my tweed covered tortoise home, now could I?” Castiel blushed again, not sure if Dean knew what he was implying. Surly he didn't.   
Bennie and Alex weren't able to make it to the bar with them, they ended up going out with the two girls they had been talking to earlier. Bennie with a beautiful redhead and Alex with the attractive short brunette. Cas, Sam and Dean went by themselves and within two hours were happily drunk. Dean leaned on Castiel for unneeded support.   
“You know what, Cas?” Dean slurred.   
“What Dean?”   
“Screw Anna. I don't need her anyways. She's a . . . a . . .”  
“An assbutt,” Castiel decided. Sam laughed, almost spitting beer out his nose.  
“Yeah! She's an assbutt!” Dean agreed, “we don't need assbutts in our lives, do we Sammy?” Sam shook his head, pretending very hard to take Dean seriously.   
“Nope!” He said.   
“No! No assbutts! We are free of assbutts,” Dean took a chug of his beer, nearly splashing some on Castiel, “We are team free will!” Dean proclaimed. Many a toast was drank to team free will, and then team free will ended up at Castiel's apartment because it was closest and no one felt like going to Dean's for the after-after-party.  
They were spinning an empty bottle, playing a game of truth and dare only they had drunkenly forgot the dare. Castiel and Dean sat on the floor, leaning up against the couch, which Sam had passed out on, leaving only Dean and Castiel left playing. Castiel spun and it landed on Dean.   
“What made you become an artist?” Castiel asked, taking a sip of his beer.   
“I have all these pictures inside my head, and I wanted the rest of the world to see what it was like inside here,” he tapped on his skull. “It's crazy.” Castiel chuckled.   
“I do not think your art is crazy. Maybe crazy beautiful or crazy talented,” Castiel told him. Dean looked at the bottle and blushed.   
“Thanks, Cas. My turn.” Dean spun the bottle. Really, with only two people, the bottle was pointless, but they were too drunk to realize that. Dean's spin landed on Castiel.   
“What is your ideal future?” Dean asked him. Castiel's heart raced. He took a big chug of beer and sat the empty bottle down. Dean smirked. “That bad, huh? What? Twenty more years in that library? Endless amounts of tweed?” Castiel stuck his tongue out at Dean and looked towards the window, over the street at the twinkling car lights.   
“My ideal future is you and Samantha living here with me, you and I get married. Or not. Doesn't matter really. I think we might have both had enough of marriage, but if you want to, I will. Sam, Alex, and Bennie come over for dinner once a week. Sam brings desert, Alex brings Kraken, and Bennie brings the board game. Sam gets married to Jess and has a kid and brings him over to play with Samantha in our pool and after we put Samantha down for bed we go into our bedroom and hold each other until we fall asleep.” Castiel breathed the words, as if some unknown force had called all of them forward. Only after he was finished he realized what he had done. He slammed his hand over his mouth and his eyes shot up to Dean. Dean sat there, stunned. His eyes were round saucers in his head that wouldn't meet Castiel's. Dean looked to his beer and sat it down on the coffee table. “Oh god, Dean, I'm sorry. I think I've had too much to drink, I didn't mean to-,”   
Then Dean's lips were on his and it was the most perfect paradise Castiel had ever known. He chased the feeling with his lips, his eyes sliding closed, his hands reaching out to find Dean. One handed ended up on Dean's shoulder and the other on the ground for balance. Dean had one hand on the side of Castiel's face, pulling him forward. Dean's tongue entered his mouth and Castiel was spared the momentary panic attack he had always been faced with when Balthazar kissed him, instead he was lost in the taste, the beautiful taste of Dean Winchester. He felt Dean's warm fingers skid over the skin of his side, underneath his shirt. He moaned into Dean's mouth when Dean bit one of his lips. He-   
The sudden sound of Samuel snoring forced them to break apart, startled. Dean hadn't let go of Castiel.   
“We should go to sleep.” Dean told him, stroking his side.   
“Probably,” Castiel mumbled, lost in the tingling sensation of Dean's fingertips tracing his skin.   
“There's only one couch. And Sam is,” they both glanced up at Sam, sprawled out and taking up the entire sofa, snoring loudly. “Sam is big,” Dean finished. Castiel felt as if his entire being was blushing.   
“You could sleep in my bed,” he whispered. Dean's eyes met his, and Dean licked his lips.   
“Yeah?” Castiel nodded frantically. They got up and stumbled into Castiel's room. Castiel tossed Dean an old shirt to change into and Dean stripped down to his boxers. Castiel tried not to stare, but he couldn't help gazing longingly at the way the moonlight shined on Dean's skin, as if caressing him. Castiel changed into sweatpants and a tee shirt, and padded into the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he came back into the bedroom Dean was already in bed. Castiel slid in beside him and looked at Dean with uncertainty. Dean slid a hand from Castiel's shoulder, tracing a light touch up to his cheek again, his thumb rubbing Castiel's cheek. He leaned in and kissed Castiel sweetly one more time before laying his head down on the pillow and pulling Castiel to him as if Castiel were a teddy bear.   
Cradled in Dean's arms, Castiel swore he slept more soundly than he had in years.


	4. Innocence Died Screaming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the shortest yet, and I debated putting this chapter and the next one together but I have decided it worked best like this. By the way, if you haven't guessed yet, the story is based off the song “From Eden” by Hozier. Also, being from the United States I'd like to give a big hooray for gay marriage finally being legalized! My first thought was “oh good, my OTP can get legally married in whatever state they find themselves in.” My OTP, of course, being Destiel. Oh and also happy fourth of July!

When Castiel awoke, he was aware that each breath he took, happiness surged through him. He was aware of someone breathing heavily beside him, and a warm body was pressed up against his own. He was aware of an arm flung over him and locked around him possessively. He was aware this was not supposed to be happening. He was aware that the person beside him was Dean. Then it all came rushing back to him. The hushed confession. The kiss. Both kisses? How many times had they kissed? Castiel's eyes opened to see Dean's face, peaceful and beautiful and the only thing he wanted to see when he woke up for the rest of his life. Yet the fact that Dean's face was there meant he had done what he had promised himself he would never do. He had fallen in love with a married man. He had become what he hated the most. Now each breath was like a knife diving into his heart. Soon, Dean would awake, and he would most likely be horrified with the way last night had gone. Castiel wanted to reach out and trace Dean's bottom lip with his thumb, but he didn't want to wake Dean up yet. He wasn't sure he was ready to face that. He wished he hadn't been so intoxicated last night so he could remember the taste of Dean's lips with more clarity. All his mind could come up with was that his lips tasted like sin.   
“Cas?” Dean mumbled, not opening his eyes. Castiel took a deep breath. Here it came. The tidal wave of regret.  
“Yes Dean?” Castiel answered in a small, terrified voice.   
“Are you going to watch me sleep forever?” Dean asked, blinking his eyes open. Castiel could feel his face heat up.   
“I . . . I was not watching you sleep,” Castiel mumbled. Dean smiled a little.   
“Liar.” Dean's eyes met Castiel's. From this close he could see the different shades of green flecked through his eyes, he could see every freckle painted on that gorgeous face. He tried map out everything in front of him because he was pretty sure he was about to lose it forever. Dean took a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his face.   
“How . . . how much do you remember from last night?” Castiel asked him, dreading the tiny sound of his voice. Dean looked down at him.   
“Umm . . . I remember you talking all mushy . . . we made out . . . we didn't have sex right?” Dean asked, glancing at Castiel.  
“No, we did not,” Castiel told him, unsure about how casual Dean was being about this. Dean shrugged.   
“Great. No harm done. We'll just chalk it up to a lot of alcohol.” Dean got out of the bed and walked out of the room. Castiel heard the sounds of pots and pans banging around, Dean making breakfast as if he lived there. Castiel lay in bed stunned. He had proclaimed his true feelings to Dean last night. Nothing he had said had been a lie. Everything was his soul poured out and last night, Dean had taken that. Today, Dean was ignoring it? Castiel found himself rather angry. He got out of bed and brushed his teeth and got dressed. It was a Sunday and he didn't have any plans, so he just put on some jeans and a button up. He glared at his reflection in the mirror. How could Dean pretend this meant nothing?  
Castiel walked into the kitchen and sat down at the breakfast bar, staring at Dean's back as Dean stirred around some eggs in a pan. Without turning around Dean said,   
“Cas, you really outta quit staring.” Castiel glared harder. Dean turned around smiling.   
“Want breakfast?” Dean asked him. Castiel opened and closed his mouth several times, and just when he was about to explode at Dean, Sam slid up beside Castiel with a smile.   
“I'll take some!” He announced happily, completely unaware of what was going on. Castiel snapped his mouth shut and continued to glare. He wouldn't bring this up in front of Sam. Sam nudged him. “What's the matter, Cas? Not a morning person?” Sam asked cheerfully. Castiel broke his glare at Dean to glance up to Sam.   
“Not this morning,” he answered.   
“I get it. I feel kind of hungover too,” Sam said, pressing a hand to his forehead. There was that. Castiel supposed he was hungover as well. His stomach felt awful, and his head was buzzing but he wasn't sure if that was rage or the hangover or both. Dean passed them both mugs of coffee and Castiel drank his silently, continuing to stare holes into Dean's back. Finally, Dean passed them food and they ate, the brothers joking and talking about the funny bits of last night. Castiel ate in silence with brief nods for Sam's sake. When they were through Sam and Dean got up to leave.   
“Gotta go man, I've got Samantha to myself today, Anna has a . . . a meeting,” Dean told him, his eyes growing dark when he mentioned the meeting.   
“I've gotta head back to San Antonio. It was great meeting you, Cas, thanks for letting me stay the night, I know it was unplanned,” Sam explained politely. Castiel's eyes flicked over Dean before he looked at Sam and smiled.   
“It was a pleasure, Sam. You are welcome back any time.” Sam looked in between Dean and Castiel before heading out the door. Dean raised an eyebrow at Castiel.   
“Hey Anna is going to be back tonight pretty early, wanna grab some food at the diner?” Dean asked him. Castiel tilted his head in confusion. Maybe Dean was planning on talking about it then? When he had had time to think and his brother wasn't around? Castiel finally nodded.   
“Yes. That sounds . . . good. What time?”   
“Seven? We can meet there?”   
“Alright. I will see you then.” Castiel told him. Dean grinned.   
“Great. See ya then, Cas.” Dean walked off and Castiel closed the door behind it, and continued to stare at the closed door in wonder. Maybe Dean would fully address last night. Maybe he would . . . what? Leave Anna? Make all of Castiel's dreams come true? Castiel walked over to the couch and plopped down, putting his head in his hands. He felt tired even though he had just woken up. He got up and got a glass of water, and then went back into his room and lay down on his bed and buried himself under the blankets, thinking of how they smelled like Dean.  
When he woke back up, it was three in the afternoon. He passed the rest of the day with a Buffy marathon and then got up and changed his shirt as the one he was wearing had been wrinkled. He sprayed cologne on himself, before grabbing his keys and wallet and heading out the door.   
Dean was already sitting at a table, bouncing one foot nervously when Castiel walked in. He sat down across from him and smiled weakly.  
“Hello, Dean.” Dean looked up at him and grinned.   
“Hey, Cas! So Alex messaged me, you'll never guess what happened last night . . .” Dean launched into a tale of how Alex and Bennie ended up taking the two girls from last night out dancing, and how neither of them had gone home with them, and how both of them had second dates. Castiel felt happy for his friends, but enraged that Dean seemed to be skirting around the subject of last night yet again. By the time their food came, Castiel was too annoyed to eat. Finally, Dean asked,  
“Cas, dude, you've been giving me the evil eye since this morning. What's up?” Castiel felt himself snap.  
“What's up?! Really Dean?” Dean dropped the fry right out of his mouth,  
“Uhh . . .”   
“Last night I told you how I felt. How I really feel. It wasn't because I was drunk, it was because I actually feel that way. And you reciprocated last night, and then today you act as if nothing happened!” Castiel's fists were clenched tight on the table. Dean's mouth was hanging wide open in a way that might have been comical in any other circumstance. Now it just fueled Castiel's rage even more. How could Dean be so blind?   
“I didn't . . . I didn't reciprocate anything, Cas . . . I was drunk.”   
“Oh. So you were just using me?!”   
“We were using each other!” Dean shouted defensively.   
“I WASN'T USING YOU, YOU IDIOT, I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU!” Castiel screamed. The rest of the diner grew quiet. A fork clattered down in shock. Dean was staring at Castiel as if he had shot someone. Castiel took out his wallet and put some money down on the table for his meal, and then muttered, “Excuse me.” and got up and walked out. He couldn't be there any longer. He couldn't look at Dean's confused face and tell himself Dean would love him back. It would never happen. Everything in his life was doomed to fail, especially his relationships. Dean had been a fantasy, and now that fantasy was crashing down around him and all Castiel wanted to do was go home and be alone. This is why he was so cut off from everyone. Because whenever he reached out, and made connections, he got hurt. Balthazar had been right after all. Castiel was doomed to be alone forever. Maybe he should just get a few cats and call it quits. He walked quickly down the street, the only sound was the cars passing by and his footsteps slapping on the pavement as he made his hasty retreat. And then a new sound joined the humid night air.   
“CAS! CAS WAIT!” Dean's footsteps echoed behind him as he ran to catch up to Castiel. Castiel tried to keep walking but Dean ran and stopped in front of Castiel, blocking his path. Castiel tried to side step him, but Dean grabbed his arm and held on tight. Castiel struggled.   
“Dean, please let me go,” Castiel begged his feet, unable to meet Dean's eyes.   
“No, Cas, not until you listen.” Castiel continued to struggle then finally he looked up at Dean.   
“I get it, Dean. I am sorry. It's my fault, I fell for you and I made this situation awkward. I get it. You were just drunk and you will never return feelings for me and I'll leave you alone now. Please let me go so I can commence my solitude.” He spoke all at once, afraid that if he took too long to speak he would start to sob. As it was, his breath was coming in short little huffs. Dean softened his grip, but didn't let go. His eyes portrayed something like sympathy.   
“Cas is that . . . is that what you think?”   
“That seems to be what you think, Dean.” Castiel finally broke free and started to walk away again.   
“Cas! Cas no! It's not like that!” Dean called after him. Castiel started to walk faster and then Dean was catching up again, and Castiel damned him I his mind. Damn Dean Winchester. Why couldn't he just leave Castiel alone? Was it not enough to steal his heart and then break it? A hand gripped Castiel again and swung him around.   
“WHAT, DEAN?” And then Dean's hands were on either side of his face and he was kissing Castiel in a rushed, breathless sort of way. Castiel didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure he should be kissing back, but he realized his body decided for him because he was kissing back, Dean's hands found him and yanked Castiel closer and Castiel's hands came to rest on Dean's shoulders, holding him tight because even if this was a kiss, it was probably their last one. The thought hit him and shocked him out of his daze. He shoved Dean away. “What are you doing?!” He asked breathlessly.   
“Reciprocating.” Dean answered, his thumb stroking Castiel's cheekbone. “Sober reciprocation. That's what I'm doing.” Castiel felt as if his heart would burst from either joy or shock or both.   
“Dean-,”   
“I'm sorry I was a dumb ass, Cas. I just thought you were drunk and made a mistake and I was trying to play it off so it wouldn't be awkward between us but I . . . I feel the same way about you. I'm sorry.” Castiel gazed up into Dean's worried face and it only took him a heartbeat to decide Dean was forgiven.   
“Can we kiss again?” He asked quietly. All worry left Dean's eyes. He laughed wholeheartedly and pulled Castiel back in, kissing him slower now, in an unhurried passionate way. Someone cleared their throat and Dean and Castiel pulled apart.   
“How about we go finish our food and then we continue this?” Dean asked Castiel, his thumbs looped through Castiel's belt loops. Castiel nodded.   
“That sounds good, Dean.” They walked back inside, hand in hand.


	5. Something so Precious

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry I haven't posted in so so long. I wasn't quite sure where I was going with this fic and then I recently found some direction (Thanks LP, you are my writing bae for this fic) I hope y'all like smut, because that's mostly what this chapter is. There will be more coming very soon, especially now that I know exactly what I'm going to write.

To Castiel, the next few weeks passed by in a blur. He still went to work, of course, and he still tried to read as much as he could at home, but now his evenings were filled with Dean. Dean kissing his neck as he tried to read a book on biblical allusions in popular television. Dean cooking him dinner and eating with him at the dining table, Dean grinning at him as he lifted Samantha into his arms and kissed her cheek. The stress melted off of Dean's face, little by little, and soon even his friends started to notice how much happier he had become. Alex remarked on it one day at the bar.   
“So . . . how are things going with Anna?” Alex asked, sipping his Kraken as usual. Dean raised an eyebrow.   
“Same old.” Dean muttered. Castiel squeezed his hand under the table.   
“So she hasn't been going to therapy? Hasn't addressed any of the issues y'all are going through?” Alex asked, peering at Dean with scrutiny.   
“No. Why do you ask?” Dean responded curiously.  
“You just . . . you look happier than I've seen you in months.” Dean shrugged his shoulders.   
“Can't a man just be happy?” Dean asked. Castiel pretended not to notice Benny and Alex sharing an odd look.   
If they weren't hanging out with their friends, or spending long, lazy days at the lake with Samantha, they were going on romantic adventures throughout the city. Austin was a big place and there were many interesting things to explore that Castiel had never discovered on his own. One afternoon they went on a walk to the Congress bridge to watch the bats fly out at sunset. On a Saturday Dean drove him to Innerspace caverns and took Castiel on a tour, which Castiel enjoyed immensely given all the books he had read about Geology. He rattled off almost more facts than the tour guide as they walked through the tunnels of sparkling rock. Castiel took Dean to the Bob Bullock museum and once again, rattled off more facts than anyone in the place knew. They went to a Hozier concert at Stubb's together, and Dean taught him how to get to the front of a crowd.   
Castiel enjoyed his time with Dean so much that he couldn't bare the thought of being without him. He was starting to get worried about how attached he was becoming to Dean. He knew sooner or later this little affair of theirs would have to end, and he dreaded that thought. Dean still had to go home most nights, but some nights he stayed with Castiel.   
At first they just lay together, kissing softly and caressing each other. Several times things got heated between the two but Dean would freeze up and Castiel would back off instantly, never wanting to pressure Dean into anything or make him uncomfortable.   
One night they were laying together after a fun date night at the roller rink when Castiel finally felt compelled to ask,  
“Dean . . . we should talk about the . . . um . . . the sex thing,” Castiel mumbled into the night air. He looked over to see Dean propped up on his elbow, his eyebrows raised.   
“Okay?”   
“I'm not trying to . . . um . . . to pressure you or anything . . . but it seems like every time we get kind of . . .”   
“Steamy?” Dean provided helpfully.   
“Yes . . . every time we get kind of steamy . . . you pull away. What's wrong?” Castiel asked him. Dean was grinning from ear to ear and then he burst out laughing. Castiel's eyebrows rose in confusion. “What? What am I not understanding here?” Castiel asked him seriously. Dean just continued to laugh, he fell back on the bed he was laughing so hard. Castiel climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and held down his arms, getting in Dean's face. “What am I not understanding?” Castiel demanded in a deadly voice. Dean stopped laughing and surged up to mesh his lips with Castiel's. Castiel was caught off guard but responded to Dean's lips instantly, as if he were trained to do so. Dean rolled his hips upwards and Castiel pulled away, glaring at Dean.  
“I kept pulling away because I thought you were uncomfortable, love.” Dean grinned back at him. Castiel tilted his head to one side.   
“Are you . . . are you serious?” Dean nodded and bit his lip.   
“Do you understand how hard it was resisting you?!” Dean asked him seriously, his eyes raking up and down Castiel's bare torso.   
“I only stopped because I thought you . . . can we . . .?”  
“Are you asking if we can fuck now, babe?” Dean asked, his eyes growing dark with lust.   
“I was going to call it making love, Dean,” Castiel responded icily. Dean actually blushed in response.   
“Yeah. We can do that, Cas. I'm ready if you are.” Castiel bent down and pressed kisses to Dean's neck. Dean's hands tightened on Castiel's hips. “I'll take that as you being ready,” Dean mumbled, his voice gruff. Castiel rolled his hips down onto Dean.   
“Very much so.” Castiel answered, his nails scraping down Dean's perfect chest. “How do you want to do this? Do you want me underneath you?”   
“As tempting as that offer sounds . . . I like you just where you are.” Dean responded, moaning as Castiel bit him and soothed the bite mark with his tongue.   
“I can do that. Let me grab the lube and I can prep-,” Dean grabbed hold of Castiel's wrist as he went to get the lube he kept in the bedside drawer. Their eyes met.   
“I um . . . would you mind . . .” Dean was blushing furiously and couldn't seem to get a word out. Castiel leaned back down and pressed a gentle kiss to Dean's lips.   
“Whatever you want, my love.”   
“I want you . . . inside me.” Dean whispered. Castiel's breath caught. He didn't expect Dean to want that right away. He had been sure Dean would request it the other way around. “Can you do that for me?” Castiel nodded, dumbstruck.   
“I'd like that very much.” he whispered to Dean. He got off of Dean briefly to grab the lube from the drawer and then he returned and stripped Dean's sweatpants off with a quiet sort of reverence. Dean wasn't wearing any underwear and his erection sprang free. Castiel licked his lips, wondering how he could possibly be so lucky. Dean reached up and ran a hand from Castiel's shoulder to his wrist. For a few minutes they just worshiped each others bodies. Castiel leaned down to press soft kisses to Dean's chest, and Dean ran fingertips gently over Castiel's back. “I love you, Dean Winchester.” Castiel breathed into Dean's skin. Dean groaned and pressed up into Castiel's touch.   
“I love you too, Castiel.” Dean told him. Castiel had a bitter thought for just half a second. His mind screamed WRONG! As if he needed to be reminded that Dean was married and that he could not love Dean without hating himself. And then, like sand slipping through his fingertips, the thought was gone and all that was left was his affection for the man beneath him, and the lust curled up in his belly. Dean stripped Castiel of first his pajama pants, and then his boxer briefs, and his fingers ran all too gently over the heated skin of his cock. “I need you.” Dean told Castiel simply. There was no screaming, no lewd remarks, no dirty talk. Dean saved all of those things for fucking. This wasn't fucking. This was making love. “I need you my angel.” Castiel worked his way down Dean's body and licked a stripe up his dick. He paused to lube up his fingers and run them over Dean's hole before he sucked Dean's head into his mouth. He wondered if this was hell, and if it was, it must be the sweetest hell imaginable. Dean bucked up into his mouth, almost causing Castiel to gag. Castiel just moaned around his skin and the action drove Dean crazy. He pressed a finger slowly into Dean and heard Dean hiss lowly. He tongued at Dean's slit to distract him from any discomfort and that seemed to do the trick. He stretched Dean out and then added a second finger. Dean was a writhing mess underneath him now. He gripped Castiel's hair and pulled him off of his dick.   
“Cas- I . . . need . . . please . . .”   
“Please what, Dean?” Castiel asked teasingly, with a smirk.  
“Please make love to me.” Dean asked him, intertwining their hands and looking up at Castiel with green eyes that glowed like the brightest beacon Castiel had ever seen, in a way that reminded him of the glowing green light from The Great Gatsby. Castiel kissed Dean then, slowly at first. Dean pressed a hand to Castiel's cheek.   
When Castiel pushed into Dean for the first time, he told himself whatever punishment he underwent for this had to be worth it. He had never felt such bliss in his life as when he was pumping in and out of Dean. For once in his entire existence, he felt whole. He felt like this is where he belonged, here, with Dean, forever. Later he would wish that he could go back to that moment and spend more time there. He wished that the next morning when Dean had insisted they both get up and go about their day, he had grabbed Dean's wrist and yanked him back into bed. He wished that he had told Dean a hundred- no, a thousand more times how much he loved him. But he did none of that now. Now he just thrust in and out of the tight, blissful heat that was Dean Winchester and basked in the light of his eyes. Dean finished first, Castiel had stroked him in time to his thrusts. Castiel came soon after, and collapsed on the bed beside Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, and they lay there, panting heavily and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Dean kissed him again.   
“I love you, Castiel. Thank you.” Castiel hummed happily into Dean's mouth.   
“I love you, Dean. More than anything.”   
“More than books?” Dean asked, teasingly, a slight quirk to his mouth. Castiel winked at him.   
“Okay, more than almost anything.” Dean laughed and hit Castiel with a pillow. Castiel caught his wrist and yanked him in for another kiss. “more than everything.” Castiel spoke against Dean's lips.


	6. Something so Broken

Chapter Six: Something so Broken

“It's been almost three months.” Castiel told his reflection in the mirror. He and Dean had been sleeping together for almost three months. They had continued to go on dates, and they hardly had to try to hide anything from Anna, she clearly didn't care. Castiel wondered why Dean stayed with her. When would he leave her? Would he even leave her? All of these thoughts whirled around in his mind like a troubled storm. There was so much he didn't know about Dean, so much that he didn't understand. There was so much Dean didn't know about him. Castiel sighed and looked into his own tired eyes. His time with Dean had given him so much, but it had also drained him. He was stressed out constantly. He knew he wanted more than Dean could possibly give him, but he couldn't help wanting it. He started thinking of it in terms of books that day while he was at work. He was shelving in the RM section when he realized his problem. He wanted to be the resolution of the novel of Dean's life, the happily ever after. He didn't just want to be a chapter. He made up his mind then that he was going to talk to Dean about all of this. About moving forward with their relationship, about leaving Anna behind for good. Maybe he'd even tell Dean about . . . he swallowed hard. He wasn't sure he could tell him everything, the pain was still too raw. The loss was too real. But Dean deserved to know the truth. Castiel picked up his phone and texted Dean.

Castiel: Dinner at my place tonight?   
Dean: Of course, angel. 

Castiel thought bitterly of how he wished Dean wouldn't call him that. He was the furthest thing from an angel. He was helping Dean cheat on his wife, who, granted, was cheating on Dean as well. But still, it didn't feel right. Castiel wished, not for the first time, that he and Dean had met under different circumstances. That neither of them had ever been married to the idiots they had gotten themselves married to. Castiel wished that Dean had been single when he met him, and then maybe the entire relationship wouldn't be tinged with this feeling of betrayal.   
That night Castiel chose a special outfit. He wore a blue button down that set off his eyes brilliantly, and tight slacks that always managed to get Dean to lose his train of thought because he was staring at Castiel's butt. He combed back his hair and then thought better of it, and ruffled it up, just like Dean liked it. He looked in the mirror and realized he looked way too professional. He rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned the first few buttons of his dress shirt. He lit candles around the apartment and made spaghetti with pie for desert. Dean showed up around 8, right when Castiel was spooning the sauce onto their spaghetti. He came up behind Castiel in the kitchen and put his hands on Castiel's hips, kissing the side of his neck.   
“It smells amazing, babe,” Dean told him.  
“Thanks. I made pie for desert,” Castiel said, moving out of Dean's grasp to put their plates on the table.  
“I knew I loved you for a reason!” Dean said.  
“Could you grab the wine and the glasses, Dean?” Dean nodded and turned around to find them. He was wearing tight fitted jeans and a shirt with paint stains all over it. Castiel didn't mind in the least, he thought Dean looked like a masterpiece. The shirt hugged him just right so Castiel got a hint of his muscles.   
“Wish you had told me this was going to be a formal affair, Mr. librarian,” Dean mocked, eying Castiel up and down with hungry eyes. Castiel smiled and shrugged.  
“And miss you wearing that? I think not.” They sat down at the table and spoke idly about their day and how work was and Samantha making Dean a new drawing with Castiel in it.  
“She loves you, Cas. Can't shut up about you. It drives Anna kinda insane,” Dean told him mischievously around a mouthful of food. Castiel felt discomfort settle in his throat. He had to bring it up. He had to have this talk with Dean. Dean seemed to notice the change in Castiel right away, and put down his fork to put his hand over Castiel's. Castiel's eyes flicked up to meet Dean's. “You okay, angel?”   
“I wish you wouldn't call me that . . .” Castiel whispered, feeling like his heart was about to break. He tried to remind himself that this conversation didn't mean goodbye, Dean could take it well and choose to leave Anna . . . maybe. Dean looked as if someone had slapped him for a fraction of a second, and then he blinked and the expression was gone.  
“Why not?”   
“I'm no angel, Dean.” Castiel sat his fork down, he clearly couldn't eat anymore. He took a sip of wine, and brushed his hands off on his napkin. Dean was looking at him as if he were crazy. “Can I . . . there are . . . things you don't know about me. Things I've kept to myself and I want to share those things with you, no matter how painful they are, because I love you.” Castiel couldn't seem to meet Dean's eyes. He knew he was probably freaking Dean out, but there seemed to be no right way to go about this.  
“Okay . . .” Dean drawled, waiting for Castiel to continue. Castiel took a deep breath and then carried on.   
“Do you remember how I told you about um . . . about Balthazar, and how he left to New Orleans?” Dean nodded, “well he left for more reasons than just one. He wanted to hurt me as bad as he possibly could.”   
“Why would an abusive asshole fleeing the state hurt you, Cas?” Castiel could feel tears building up in his eyes.   
“We had a child.” The silence in the air was deafening. Castiel finally brought himself to look into Dean's eyes. Dean was staring at him with complete shock written on his features.   
“You . . . what? How? How did y'all do it? Adopted?” Castiel shook his head.   
“We always planned on having two. One with my DNA, one with his. But we had Claire first, with his through a surrogate mother. When he left me he got a restraining order on me . . . I raised that little girl for nine years, and then he just . . .” Castiel made a gesture in the air, “he took her.”   
“And you didn't do anything about it? You didn't chase after them?!” Dean's voice was raising, and Castiel flinched.   
“I tried, I tried to fight it but some states, especially in the south really don't . . . they don't care about the rights of two same sex parents. I was told that I wasn't biologically her parent at all, and thus I had no claim on her. And then the restraining order happened and . . . I didn't stand a chance.”   
“I would have fought tooth and nail for my daughter,” Dean mumbled, unwilling to meet Castiel's eyes.   
“I tried-,”   
“It just doesn't seem like you tried hard enough.” Once again the silence pressed in on them, until Dean broke it by getting up to take his plate to the sink, shaking his head as he went. “I'm sorry, Cas, I just . . . I didn't peg you for a . . .” Castiel got up and followed him into the kitchen with his own plate.  
“For a what, Dean?!”   
“For a coward.” Castiel wasn't sure if he wanted to punch Dean or just walk out of the apartment to be alone. He wasn't sure about anything right then.   
“You're one to talk, Dean Winchester!” Castiel yelled back, the words gushing out of his mouth before he could stop them. Dean put his plate in the sink.   
“What is that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, glaring at him.   
“When are you going to leave your wife, Dean?” Silence. This entire night was just broken up into a cacophony of silence and screams. Castiel continued on when Dean wouldn't. “You say you love me, and you say you don't love her, you haven't been happy in your relationship for months. Why haven't you left her already?”   
“I just . . . I don't know if I'm ready.”   
“When will you be ready? Next month? Next year? How long to you intend for this affair to keep going on? How long do you think I'll wait?”   
“How long will you wait, Cas?! I don't have a freakin' expiration date on my marriage!”   
“I don't know Dean!”   
“You don't know what?!”   
“How long I will wait.” Castiel wished he could take the words back as soon as they left his mouth, but for some reason more words kept coming. “I hate myself for loving you. I feel like I've become a person that I hate, a person with no morals.”   
“Yeah well I would've thought that ship had sailed when you married a dude,” Dean muttered darkly. Castiel laughed, but it wasn't his usual happy chuckle, it was a dark, maddening laugh.   
“In case you hadn't noticed Dean, you're into men too.”  
“That's not what I-,” Castiel cut him off.   
“I can't keep doing this,” Castiel whispered, more to himself than to Dean.  
“What do you mean, Cas?” Dean asked, quietly now as well.   
“We can't keep doing this. If I had met you and you were single . . .” Castiel had long since sat his plate down on the counter, and now he crossed the small kitchen space and put a hand to Dean's cheek. “I am in love with you, Dean Winchester.”   
“Then stay with me.” There were tears in Dean's eyes.   
“Leave your wife.” hesitation.  
“I . . . I don't know if . . .” Castiel smiled sadly at Dean's words.  
“We just met at the wrong time, my love.”   
“Cas-,”  
“I think you should go.” Castiel hated himself for saying the words. He hated himself for the tear that slipped down Dean's face. He hated himself for not being able to meet Dean's eyes as he took away his hand and turned his back. He knew if he looked into those eyes one more time, he would buckle and lose his resolution. He didn't know why he wanted this, but part of him just knew it was right.   
Castiel wasn't sure if Dean spoke after that, but the sound of the door slamming was like a gunshot to Castiel's heart. The moment the doorknob clicked in place Castiel crumpled to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut and stared silently ahead, his eyes prickling with tears. Dean was gone. And he wasn't coming back.


	7. Just to Sit Outside your Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is it! The last chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read and give me your fantastic feedback! I might not have even finished this fanfiction if it wasn't for you! I love y'all! That being said, the new semester is about to start up and it's about time I start focusing on writing novels that aren't fanfiction. This doesn't mean I won't be writing ever again, but I might not be posting fanfiction for a while, and if I do, they probably won't be long. This isn't goodbye in any way. I love y'all and I love writing for y'all. I'll see you soon! ~Riveting Red Pants

Castiel squeezed Claire's shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled as they walked into the school she worked at now. It had been four years since he reconnected with Claire, a year after he and Dean split up. They had been the best four years of Castiel's life (or at least they were tied with the three months he had spent with Dean). She sprung out of his grasp bounced along the hallway of her fancy prep school excitedly.   
“I can't wait for you to meet all of my the teachers I work with! And some of the children! One in particular is attached to me at the hip it seems, you'll really like her, Dad.”   
“Oh? What's she like?” Castiel asked, smiling. Open house night was one of his favorite nights of the year. Claire was a genius and Castiel loved how she glowed with pride as they talked to her coworkers and the parents whose children adored her. She twenty, and working as a teacher's aid at the local elementary school. She wanted to become a kindergarten teacher.  
“She's about ten and she's really smart. She's got this crazy red hair, green eye combo, she's very pretty.”  
“What's her name?” Castiel asked. Just then, a little red headed girl flung herself into Claire's arms.   
“MISS NOVAK!” The girl screamed.   
“PRINCESS SAMMY!” Claire screamed back. Castiel froze. He wondered if . . . he looked up to see a slightly older version of the man he had been in love with running up towards them.   
“Samantha, what have I told you about running off?” Dean panted, slightly out of breath. “Last time I told you I-,” Dean's eyes finally flicked up to meet Castiel's, and time seemed to stand still around them. The sounds of the crowded hallway, the children laughing and screaming, they all blurred away and a new sound seemed to permeate the air. The sound of a song long forgotten. Castiel didn't wake from his trance until Claire nudged him with her elbow.  
“Dad what are you staring at?” Claire asked him in an annoyed tone. Castiel cleared his throat and blinked a few times, he seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.   
“Dean-,”   
“Cas! It's so good to see you!” Dean stepped forward and embraced Castiel in a hug, and then he seemed to remember what was happening and who he was with and he released him just as quickly. Castiel could feel his face heating up.   
“It's . . .uh . . . good to see you too, Dean.” Dean stared at him awkwardly for another moment.   
“You guys know each other?” Claire asked Castiel. Castiel nodded and put a hand on Claire's shoulder again.   
“We . . . did.” Castiel responded. He wasn't sure how to react in this situation. He was waiting for Anna to slink up from behind Dean with some bitchy comment at any second. Dean smiled at him, his green eyes twinkling in the same way they used to. Samantha was looking back and forth in between them.   
“You're Cas. I remember you.” She spoke slowly, as if waking up from a haze herself. Probably a haze filled with lazy summer afternoons spent on the shoulders of her father's extremely close friend at the lake.   
“You . . . you remember me?” Castiel asked, in awe. Samantha grinned, all dimples, and ran forward to wrap her arms around Castiel.   
“Of course I do. That was the best summer ever!” Castiel picked her up and spun her around, a creature of habit. He then hugged her tightly to him.   
“It's good to see you again, Princess Sammy!” He told her. He finally placed her back down on the ground. Claire was staring at him quizzically. Dean was just smiling as if it were Christmas day.   
“Hey Cas, how about after open house we meet at the Barnes and Noble in the arboretum? Sammy here is a big fan of books, and if Claire is anything like you, I'm guessing she is too. We can grab a coffee while the girls run around, what do you say?” Castiel should have been torn. He should have thought about that year, the year in between leaving Dean and finding Claire. The year he spent boozing up, crying. The year he managed to make himself numb to the world. He should have thought about all of those things. But instead he looked into Dean's dazzling face, and nodded his head.   
“Yes. That . . that sounds good, Dean.” Dean looked at Castiel as if he didn't quite believe the answer himself, and clapped him on the back. “Are you okay with that, Claire?” he asked his daughter. She nodded while casting suspicious glances in between Castiel and Dean.  
“Great! I'll see ya then!” They separated to go to their respective classrooms.  
“Dad how do you know them?” Claire asked right away.   
“I was um . . . friends with Dean before I found you again, sweetheart.”   
“Oh,” was all Claire managed before the teacher Claire was working with whisked Castiel away to brag about how gifted Claire was.  
An hour later, Castiel walked into the Barnes and Noble and instantly saw Dean sitting at a table at the Starbucks there, his leg bouncing like it always did when he was nervous.   
“Why don't you go find Sammy, sweetheart?” Castiel said to Claire. She gave him an odd look and walked off. Castiel took a deep breath and walked towards Dean, and sat down at the table opposite him.   
“Can I get you anything?” Dean asked. Castiel shook his head, not quite remembering how to speak. Dean was clutching an Americano in his hands. “How have you been, Cas?” Castiel heard Claire laugh somewhere in the store, and that sound seemed to start his brain up again. He smiled.   
“I've been good. Great, in fact. I found her Dean. I found my daughter.” Dean chuckled at him.  
“I kind of noticed that. What happened, if you don't mind me askin'?”   
“Well. A few months after we um . . . I started trying again. I moved to New Orleans briefly, and found Balthazar right away. He hardly fought me for her. He pretty much only kept her to make me mad, but he was never really the father type,” Castiel made a face. “She remembered me and wanted to give it a try, and it ended up working out really well for us. We moved back to Texas, and started over. She's going to college here at UT to become a teacher, while working as a teacher's aid at the elementary school,” Castiel's eyes drifted off to see his daughter had found a cozy chair and was holding Samantha on her lap and reading a book to her. “I couldn't be more proud of her. I'm still working at the library, they took me back after I moved back here. I'm a department head now. Just under the director of the library.” Castiel's eyes found Dean again. “And you? Are you still . . .” Castiel wondered if it would be too awkward to ask Dean about his wife.   
“Married?” Dean asked with a smile. “No. I left Anna pretty soon after we split. I got custody, of course,” Dean rolled his eyes. Castiel felt his heart skip a beat, and tried to remind himself nothing would happen between him and Dean. Nothing could happen, right? Did he even want that?  
“And how's work? How's your art? How are Bennie and Alex?” Castiel asked instead.  
“Alex got married, to a woman named Anna, not the same woman, obviously. Bennie is in a long term relationship with Anna's best friend, Amie. They are both doin' real good. Business is booming! I'm making a killing off of my paintings. Enough to afford a fancy apartment and get Sammy into that fancy school. I thought when she went on and on about a Miss Novak there could be a chance . . . I mean how common is the last name Novak, anyway? I don't know. I guess I just . . . I hoped you had found your daughter again.” Castiel nodded, unaware of what to say at this point. Suddenly, Dean's hand was on his. “Cas . . . I'm sorry for what I said that night . . . it wasn't my place to say it I was just so stupid, I was trying to place fault on anyone but myself and I-,” Castiel held up his other hand to cut Dean off.   
“Dean, it's okay. It was in the past. Besides, you are what sparked me to go and find her. You're the reason I have a daughter again and I can't thank you enough for that. Besides, I said some pretty hurtful things that night too, if I recall correctly.”  
“Nothing that wasn't true,” Dean said, shrugging, he took his hand off of Castiel's and Castiel realized how their hands had sparked when they touched, just like they used to. For a moment Castiel stared at his hand.   
“I think it all worked out for the best between us,” Castiel mumbled.   
“Oh?” Dean asked, a hurt tone in his voice.   
“Not like that. I just mean . . . “  
“That even if I had left Anna and gone right to you, our relationship would always have been a little bit poisonous because of the circumstances?” Dean finished Castiel's thoughts precisely.   
“Exactly,” said Castiel.   
“If you uh . . . don't mind me . . . uh . . .” Dean rubbed the back of his neck.   
“Yes?” Castiel felt his stomach explode with butterflies. He felt just like he had five years ago. He hadn't been sure these past five years if he was still in love with Dean Winchester, but this conversation seemed to prove he was.  
“I was wondering if you were seeing anyone?” Castiel could feel himself blush. “Oh . . . oh you still blush just the same that's um . . .” Dean cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. “I mean if you are that's fine I was just-,” Castiel couldn't help but chuckle.   
“I'm not seeing anyone Dean.” Dean looked at Castiel as if Castiel had just given Dean the keys to the universe. Just then Samantha ran up and pulled on Dean's sleeve.  
“Daddy, I'm tired! Can we go home?” Dean kissed her on the forehead and stood up, lifting her with him.  
“Sure thing, pumpkin.” He turned to look at Castiel again, “do you want to catch up some more? Maybe over dinner?” Dean asked. Castiel could feel himself grow worried, just for a moment. Sure, he was still in love with Dean Winchester, that much was without a doubt. But was he willing to be in a relationship again? Dean seemed to sense his hesitation because he cleared his throat. “Hey uh . . . it doesn't mean anything has to happen . . . I just wanted to catch up more.” Castiel smiled and nodded.   
“I'd like that more than anything.”   
“Anything?” Dean whispered, reverently, thinking back to that first night they had spent together. He wondered if Castiel would even understand that reference, it was so long ago now. But Castiel's eyes sparkled up at him.  
“More than everything.”


End file.
